


Playing with Fire

by Glare, Icse, Kurenaino



Series: Empire of Flames [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Be there or be square, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Domestic Violence, Eventual mpreg, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, For certain pairings, Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Oh Lord Here We Go Again, Omega Anakin Skywalker, Omega Satine Kryze, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sith Obi-Wan, Sith Shenanigans, Slow Burn, The Sith Triumvirate Writes, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 105,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glare/pseuds/Glare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icse/pseuds/Icse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurenaino/pseuds/Kurenaino
Summary: As the prospects of finding a way home grow slimmer, the stranded Sith Lord Lumis must find a way to content himself with life in a universe so different than his own. His ambitions will come to fruition one way or another, and if he can not bring them to life in his own galaxy, then he will make them reality in this one.Sequel to ‘Playdate’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Entropy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319155) by [Glare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glare/pseuds/Glare). 
  * Inspired by [From Grace, I Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860874) by [Kurenaino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurenaino/pseuds/Kurenaino). 



> The Sith Triumvirate is proud to present Crack Baby 2: Electric Boogaloo.
> 
> For those of you who may be new to the party, welcome aboard
> 
> A quick rundown: this is the second crossover work, set in the universe of Glare's Entropy and involving Lord Lumis from Kurenaino's Morning Star Series, and picks up immediately where Playdate leaves off. 
> 
> Playdate is recommended reading, but for those who don’t want to read that, here’s a quick character guide:  
> Lord Lumis: Morning Star’s Sith Obi-Wan, a normal human.  
> Lord Aestus: Entropy’s Sith Obi-Wan, an Alpha.  
> Anakin Skywalker: Aestus’ unwilling mate, an Omega.  
> Satine Kryze: Sovereign Leader of Mandalore, an Omega.  
> Qui-Gin Jinn: a Jedi, an Alpha, and a rapist. Anakin Skywalker’s biological father.
> 
> Enjoy!

For the longest time, all he could do was stare. Watching the gentle rise and fall of Satine’s chest, leaning up to take in the gentle swell of her stomach, feeling his own heart pound in his chest as though it were trying to break free from the prison of his ribcage. He almost dared not believe this to be reality; not with the horrors he’d seen behind his eyes. A dozen ways his lover and his son had been taken from him flashed before his eyes, a dozen lives they were never able to live.

“Are you alright, Obi-Wan?” Satine asked, rolling over to reach up and brush back a strand of hair that fallen into his eyes. There was a fond smile on her lips even then that nearly took his breath away. Even on their busiest days, she always cared so deeply for him; always took the time to ask what troubled him. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing, love,” Lumis replied catching hold of her hand before she could withdraw it and laying gentle kisses to the inside of her wrist. “Just a dream.”

She shivered beneath the soft touch of his lips, the intended effect of his actions, but would not be deterred from her line of questioning. “What kind of dream?” She wiggled closer, a more delicate process than it had once been now that their child was growing inside her. “Was I in it?”

“I don’t—“ he started, then cut himself off. There were details, fleeting images, somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew they were there, but when he reached for them, it was like reaching into fire. Heat licking at questing fingers until he was forced to draw away from the pain. “I don’t know where you were... I don’t remember.”

“Well, what do you remember?” She pressed. She was always curious about the workings of his mind, his lovely Satine. Always questioning. Always looking for cracks and rough edges to smooth away before he caught himself on them and made them bleed. He would have torn himself apart long ago, he thought, if not for her attentiveness and care.

What he remembered, what didn’t hurt to touch, was heat: a planet with air that boiled in the lungs like the lava below his feet. A man with molten eyes and long, auburn hair, a mirror-image distorted by time. A boy so familiar and yet so unique, blonde hair falling into his eyes and the mark of their order carved in raised flesh. Passion, and lust, and anger... an anger like he had never felt before. Just the memory of it was nearly enough to start the fire anew, though he wasn’t sure what he was angry about.

“It was about me,” Lumis decided, smothering out that spark of rage and focusing on the rest of the dream. “About who I could have been, in another time. Another place.”

“And what did you think of him: this other you?”

Lumis’ nose wrinkled with distaste, vaguely recalling the lewd sound of flesh smacking against flesh, moans of pleasure and pain alike. “...I think he was sleeping with Skywalker.”

The unexpectedness of his statement drew startled, yet delighted laughter from his wife. Lumis had heard it a hundred times before, yet had never grown tired of it. “A nightmare, then!” She teased.

Her laughter was infectious, and he found himself chuckling along with her until tears stung at his eyes and he was forced to wipe them away. “Something like that, yes,” he sighed. “It just... felt so real.”

“They always do, Obi-Wan, but they aren’t. This?” Satine reached out, taking hold of his hand and bringing it to her swollen belly. Beneath his palm, he could feel the thrum of life where their son grew within her. Dark like his father, but so very strong. He would be miraculous, Lumis knew; the galaxy would kneel at his feet. “You, me, our son? This is real. This is real, and it’s all you’ll ever need.”

For a moment, Lumis was confused. His mind caught on those words, ‘all you’ll ever need,’ and there was something strange about them. Before he could consider them further, however, their son kicked beneath his palm, and he was filled with a euphoria the likes of which he had never experienced before.

“Yes,” he murmured, almost dazed as he gently stroked at Satine’s belly. “This is all I’ll ever need…”

In the quiet of the room, the only noise around them the background hum of the city and their own soft breathing, a strange sense of contentment washed over him. It was perhaps the most relaxed Lumis had ever been. He could feel his muscles unwinding, the stress of a life lived in battle falling away as he sunk into the mattress at his wife’s side. A pleasant weariness had overtaken him instead, and he was certain he did not wish to move from this place. He wanted to stay here, with Satine and their growing child, for as long as he could. To hold on to this moment and the peace it brought him; to slip back into the grips of unconsciousness and, for the first time in a long time, just rest.

He’d just begun to slip under, his eyes fluttering closed and the darkness creeping in from the corners of his eyes, when the moment was interrupted by the wailing of a siren. The world around came rushing back with a sudden sharpness, and he sprung from the bed quickly in attempt to discern what was happening outside their quiet corner of the universe.

“Obi-Wan?” Satine asked, and he almost didn’t hear her over the rush of blood in his ears and the frantic beating of his own heart. “What’s going on?”

There was a crease in her brow that betrayed her fear as she sat up in bed, one hand cradling her swollen stomach, the other reaching beneath her pillow for the small blaster she kept there. Her eyes were clear and sharp and fierce despite the sudden stress. He loved her like this, Lumis thought, as much as he loved her in their moment of peace: untidy hair and a rumpled nightgown, but prepared to face down whatever the galaxy had thrown their way this time. A warrior to her very core—the only want he wanted to stand at his side through the turmoils their lives and their choices brought upon them.

“I don’t know, my love,” he replied, striding quickly toward the windows in hopes of gaining a better understanding of the situation. What he saw beyond, however, was blurred and distorted. More impression than image, a swirling haze of color and vague shapes that might have perhaps been cityscape of Sundari, if he narrowed his eyes and focused. It was strange, confusing, like nothing he had ever experienced before. Was this the work of some new technology? A cloaking device to as of yet reach his awareness? Or was this some clever trick of the Force? Could someone be manipulating his senses?

Surely not, he thought, as the sound of blaster fire reached his ears. Not him, with his shields strong as smooth as the finest durasteel, keeping out any and all who would dare try to penetrate them. No one was strong enough to break them. No one, except perhaps—

“Obi-Wan!” Satine called, the sound of approaching boot steps loud in in the hallway beyond their room. There was shouting in Mando’a and more fire exchanged; combat was happening just beyond the shelter of their room. He didn’t know who would be bold enough to engage Mandalore, who was stupid enough to attempt an incursion on its palace and capitol city, but they would pay dearly for their mistake.

“Lumis!” Another voice echoed, so faint it nearly escaped his notice. His steps toward the door, where Satine had moved to crouch, peeking out, faltered. That voice was familiar—almost unnervingly so. He knew he’d heard it before, but where? “Lumis, by the Force, WAKE UP!”

But Satine urged him again, a clipped demand of, “Obi-Wan, come on!” and with a shake of his head, he pushed the voice to the back of his mind. The enemy was approaching, almost upon them; he didn’t have time to be worrying about voices in his head.

No more than usual, anyways.

Satine stuck her blaster through the crack in the door, fired a round of warning shots at their mysterious foes, and he stepped closer, ignited his blade, reached out for the door with the intention to throw it open and meet the enemies head on—

“Lumis, dammit! Let go!”

Suddenly there was pain, racking his body, searing through skin and flesh and bone. The world around him was falling away as he collapsed to the floor, seizing with the agony, and he could hear Satine as she called his name. Screamed for him. Could hear it over the sounds of blaster fire and explosions, but he couldn’t quite seem to drag himself back. It was like the world was crumbling around him, or like he was crumbing. Breaking apart. Being torn limb from limb, piece by piece, from this place he wanted to be. From this place where he belonged.

“Obi-Wan!” He heard as the world faded to darkness around him, but the voices were distorted. Merged together. As though Satine and someone else were both yelling for him from somewhere far away. He tried to hold on to those last, fleeting images of his beloved wife, fingers curling into defiant claws in the carpet, but whatever was drawing him into darkness was stronger than even him.

Consciousness returned in an assault of sound, collapsing down on him like a waterfall. All at once it was like a thousand voices screaming in his ears, battering at his mind as he struggled to raise shields he hadn’t even realized were lowered. The voices fought him as he did, sinking talons into his skull that was forced to pry loose.

One in particular refused to be shaken free, clinging like a parasite to the inside of his mind. It was closest, its song the loudest, alluring in a way that made him want to cede to its sweet request. To slip into its embrace and let it once again sing him to sleep.

“Lumis, by the stars, drop the damn orb!”

Something cold was wrenched from his grip, textured metal catching on his fingertips, and the world around him swam suddenly into view. He was laying on the floor of a dimly lit room, the air in his lungs hot and sulfurous. He gagged and wheezed, choking on ash as he finally managed to cast out the last tendrils of that sweet melody and shored up his weakened shields.

Someone was moving nearby; he could hear their fast, panicked breathing, but could not find the strength to push himself up and find them. The Force should have been able to to tell him just what lay in wait in the room around him, but in his weakened state, it slipped like sand through fingers.

“Satine?” Lumis called, voice cracking around her name. His throat felt raw, his limbs weak and uncoordinated. The last he remembered, he was in their bedroom. The attack was happening, and he’d fallen into some kind of fit—

“You,” the not-quite familiar voice snapped, followed by a pained grunt and the sound of something, or someone, heavy hitting the ground. “Go check on him.”  
“Satine?” Lumis asked again, his dry throat aching as he attempted to swallow, and with a pained whimper, he tried to push himself up, the weakness in his arms keeping him from moving very much at all. With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, his fingers sliding into his golden hair to clutch tightly at the thick locks. He was dying, he could feel it. He didn’t know why or how, all he knew was that Satine needed him. Their son needed him, and no matter what, he would fight his way toward them. Fear gripped Lumis, the Sith Lord’s blood suddenly surging with the raw power of the Dark Side at the thought of his sweet lover dead and his son with her, of Mandalore burning because he had failed them all, a feeling that felt so visceral, so intense that for a moment, he could have sworn that it was real.

His heart raced with panic the moment he felt a presence above him ripple the Force, fanning the flames to send embers swirling into the air as his eyes flew open to see the face of Qui-Gon Jinn, the Master that had abandoned him, and for a moment, visions of bright, painful light flooded his senses beside flashes of a battle in a ship above Coruscant, of Darth Tyranus driving his blade through Qui-Gon’s heart, of an empty robe falling to the ground. For just a moment, all was still as Lumis looked above him at his former Master, a man he knew to be dead but was very much alive, and though he saw the man before him, Lumis couldn’t understand what was real.

The moment Qui-Gon’s hand gently touched Lumis’ face, it all came flooding back to him, the fear and panic and rage of the creeping chill of death he felt in the back of his mind filling him with new purpose. With a vicious snarl on his face, Lumis fanned the flames of the Dark Side to give him the strength he needed as he reached up to grab a fistful of Qui-Gon’s hair and savagely flip him on to the ground. Lumis was swiftly on top of him, his knee planted firmly on the Jedi’s stomach and his ears ringing with the sounds of screams, near and distant, from voices he knew all too well and those he could not recognize, and through it all, the Dark Side sang. Breathing deep, Lumis tore open the struggling Jedi’s robes and laid his hand upon his chest, his eyes closed and a low moan slipping past his lips as he felt the strong, fast beat of his heart pulsing in time with the warmth of his presence in the Force. The Sith Lord followed the flow of the current back to its source, to the very life that rested within the Jedi, his own shadowy presence surging as he closed his hands around Qui-Gon’s life and tore it away from him, the Force screaming and tearing as he drained it out of every cell of his body.

He had all but forgotten about the presence in the room until it was finished.

“What the hells did you do?” Aestus hissed, staring down at the tableau on the floor in shock and horror.

When he had finally sensed something amiss in the Force, finally noticed his twin had wandered of and not yet returned, Aestus had feared that it would perhaps be too late for the brother he had only just gained. His den was filled with scavenged art and artifacts, each one of them carrying a rich history with the Sith, but there were very few of them he had ever managed to identify, and even fewer whose powers he knew and understood. It was why he had insisted on waiting to meddle with them, despite Lumis’ increasing frustrations with his new place in Aestus’ universe. He was desperate to get home, but if there was one thing Aestus knew, it was that the power Sith artifacts bestowed never came without a price.

The metal orb in his hands was inert now, the alpha all but deaf to its alluring song, but apparently it had called to Lumis. Had sung to him and drawn him in, ensnaring him in its toxic grip. Aestus did not know its power, did not know what it had shown his brother to seduce him the way it had, but once it had him, it had pulled him away to a place where even Aestus could barely reach him. It had held him there, steadily draining the life from his body, while the alpha grappled its intoxicating power to free the other sith.

Then Qui-Gon had approached the weakened man, had leaned down to check on him, and Lumis had—

Well, he didn’t know what Lumis had done, but as he watched his brother slide off the now lifeless Qui-Gon’s chest, dropping limply to the floor beside the man’s corpse, he knew that the power Lumis had called upon was far darker than anything he had even so much as considered. No, his brother had reached into the Force, into Qui-Gon Jinn’s very soul, and torn the life from his body to replace that which the artifact had stolen and more. Aestus had felt it draining away, sucked into the aching void of Lumis’ presence, and had witnessed it restore not only his strength, but his body as well.

The tired lines of his brother’s face, a result of many sleepless nights researching a way to send the man home, had all been smoothed away now. The bags under his eyes were lessened, and there was more color in his cheeks than Aestus thought he had seen from the man even in their initial confrontation on Malastare. Even as he laid on the floor, staring blankly up at the ceiling, riding a high that Aestus could feel tingling in the back of his mind, he seemed to practically glow with the new life that he had taken. Aestus didn’t know whether to be awed or horrified by Lumis’ power, something he could have never even imagined.

“Lumis, what did you do?” Aestus repeated, fear coloring his tone as the the full realization of what had transpired set in. Such a terrible power; such a horrible strength. An aching, sucking Darkness that Aestus would like nothing more than to forget.

The orb slipped from his loose grip, clattering noisily against the floor before beginning to roll slowly away. Aestus made a quick step to pursue it before it was lost among the clutter of the room only to be frozen in as the Dark Side rose, sharp and cold, around Lumis. Aestus had expected his brother’s control over the Force to have faltered, as his own did whenever he was under the effects of a powerful high, but instead it was still fairly focused and strong.

Lumis’ head lolled to the side, the rest of his body following after a moment’s struggle, as he made an attempt to face the Aestus. There was a concerned frown on his face now, as though he had thought of something briefly forgotten in the initial rush of his high. “Satine,” he demanded, managing to keep his tone surprisingly even as he did so. “I want to… I want to see Satine.”

Satine Kryze was an eleven day’s journey from the planet of Mustafar, and would certainly be unwelcoming to the arrival of two Force-sensitive strangers. After Qui-Gon had left her alone and pregnant as a teen, she had isolated the planet of Mandalore from the rest of the Republic. The pacifist teenager had come to an arrangement with the Deathwatch faction that had previously called for her head, cutting all ties to the Jedi Order and banning them from the system. For fifteen years, the planet had been nearly self-sufficient, what little trade that came and went highly regulated and closely monitored. Aestus had heard stories of ships shot from the sky just for getting too close to Mandalore’s territory.

In other words, he had no intention of getting anywhere near that planet for as long as he lived.

Still, he could tell from the look on Lumis’ face, from the resolve that he sensed in the Force, that his brother would not take no for an answer. He was lost in a life beyond this one, and expected his demands to be met. The Satine of this life would not greet him as the other Sith’s once-wife had, but Aestus could not tell him no. He could not get between Lumis and what he desired, with the horrific new power his brother had displayed. He needed to get away from Lumis; he needed the man isolated until he came back to his senses.

“I’ll take you to Satine, alright?” Aestus offered, not daring to stray any closer to the man for fear of coming into contact with him. He didn’t know whether or not Lumis was still… infectious, and did not want to meet the same sticky end Jinn had.

“You will?” Lumis asked, his red-tinged, golden eyes wide with budding hope. “You know where she is?”

“Of course, I do,” Aestus replied, offering the man a smile that he hoped looked more genuine than it felt as he pointed to the door he and Anakin had arrived through. “She’s just this way, you’ll see.”

His words got Lumis moving, however fumbling it might have been. For the solid grip he seemed to have on the Force, his body betrayed him in the high Aestus could feel seeping deliciously through their mental connection. Twice he nearly toppled over trying to get to his feet, but the Force drew in tight around him to aid in balance when he finally managed to push himself upright.

Aestus was eager to be rid of the man for the moment, eager to escape the consuming Dark and the strange power that Lumis had displayed when he sucked the very life from Qui-Gon Jinn. It was terrifying, a thing of nightmares, and Aestus fully intended to dull the memory with whatever he happened to have stashed away through the bedroom. A high always chased the cold of the Dark away, and if he remembered correctly, he should still have a few packets of slick tucked away in the nightstand.

“We must hurry,” Lumis demanded once again, his pace surprisingly quick for the sluggishness of his mind. “There was something wrong. We must find her.”

Aestus had played along best he could, but this final demand brought his patience to an end. In leading Lumis away from the room they had started in, he had hoped to put enough distance between them and it that Lumis would not be tempted to seek out the orb again. This would have to be far enough, however, as he did not think he could stand another moment in the man’s presence.

“She’s just through here,” he announced, pressing the closest door panel to open it. “Quickly now.”

Lumis hastened to obey, eager to see his lover, and before he had the chance to realize he had been tricked, he was launched into the room by Aestus’ Force-push.

The door snapped quickly closed behind him, heedless to the startled, panicked cries of the Sith within, and Aestus placed his palm against the biometric seal to lock it. He could still feel Lumis’ daze in the back of his mind, but the physical distance between them had taken away some of the strain in his shoulders. No longer was that strange power a threat; no longer did he have to worry about Lumis turning it against him. Lumis would come back to his senses with time, and they could keep looking for a way to send him home.

“Fuck, I need a hit,” he hissed before starting back to the bedroom, where bliss awaited in the embrace of of drugs and his omega.

“No, wait, don’t go!” Lumis called desperately to the figure retreating through the doorway, his eyes wide and wild, his already rapid heartbeat pounding even faster, his entire being tightening with a franticness he hadn’t known before, but Lumis was uncertain why. The door slid closed, and he was left feeling lonely and frightened, his eyes shutting tightly as he sunk to the floor.

“Don’t go...” he muttered pitifully at the door, trying to conjure the image of the man that had left him only a moment before. Obi-Wan Kenobi, he was certain it was him. Somehow. Not him, but Obi-Wan. Lumis looked down at his shaking hands, back at the door where no one was, and shut his eyes once again. It was impossible. A vision, a ghost, a hallucination, it had to be, for he was Obi-Wan, or at the very least had been so once before. Lumis reached into the Force for answers, and quickly snatched his hand away when it burned him, the Force in flames, just as it had been before, everything around him on fire as he burned to ash.

“Come back...” the Sith muttered absently, frowning as he said the words, but didn’t understand why he had said it. Lumis looked at the door for a moment, his gaze slowly sweeping around the room, flames flickering at the edge of his vision as everything around him burned. It didn’t bother him anymore. The Force was always on fire, the galaxy always in flames as it sped headless toward its destination. He couldn’t remember where he was, why he was there, and laughing softly to himself, Lumis rose to his feet. The Force was playing tricks on him again, as it so often did, as it was doing right now, but he wouldn’t be fooled, not this time. This time, he remembered, and he held the truth close to him.

“Satine!” Lumis called into the empty room, shuffling over to the door, his hand waving casually through the air and tearing the mechanical door off its tracks and throwing it down the hallway in a shower of sparking wires and broken electronics. He remembered. She was with him, laying in bed beside him and cuddled close together, his hand on her stomach and feeling the excited movements of their son, the Dark Side pulsing strong within him already. Somewhere in the back of his mind flashed brief, angry memories of his beautiful wife mindless with pain and pleasure as Qui-Gon Jinn thrust hard within her, but it didn’t make sense. Qui-Gon would never do that, not to his Satine. Not ever.

But he remembered Qui-Gon, remembered him dying when Dooku had slain him, remembered his robes falling empty to the ground and leaving no body behind. But he had just seen Qui-Gon. Just seen him only moments before very much alive. Like Satine. Like his son. As sure as the Force was on fire, he knew this to be true. Frowning as he stepped out into the hall, Lumis patted himself down, felt the lightsabers at his hip, and unclipped all four he carried and held them out before him. He didn’t carry four blades. Not ever. He clipped the Darksaber back on his belt and looked at the three nearly identical hilts, the two sabers he had made so long ago and hadn’t carried together since he had been a Jedi, and the other one belonging to his Master that had been lost so long ago on Naboo.

“Qui-Gon!” Lumis shouted as he started down the hall, waving his and the Jedi’s old sabers in the air as he returned his Sith one to its place on his belt. “Qui-Gon, I found your lightsaber! Both of them, can you believe it?” He powered on Qui-Gon’s saber and frowned when he saw the blade extend, red and bloody as the Sith weapon he carried himself, and he looked at the hilt, examined it closely, and failing to make sense of what he was seeing, sunk the blade into the nearest wall and laughed at the hiss of the plasma cutting through the walls as he walked, leaving a molten trail in his wake.

“Qui-Gon, have you seen Satine?” Lumis shouted over the hiss of the lightsaber. “She’s run off somewhere! Qui-Gon! Qui-Gon, Master, help! Everything’s weird here, the Force is...hmmmmm....” Lumis hummed, spinning on his heel and tearing the saber from the wall, his hand swiftly tightening into a fist and causing a nearby door to collapse, the crushed metal nearly flat against the ground as he stepped over the sparking heap and into a dark room, the saber filling the room with an eerie red glow as the Sith Lord rocked back on his heels and hummed, his eyes closing as he swayed where he stood.

“It’s loud, Qui-Gon, make it stop...” Lumis muttered as he shuffled further into the room, the red blade dragging on the ground behind him as he approached a bookshelf stuffed haphazardly with old, ancient artifacts of great value and small, shining trinkets that were essentially valueless. Lumis grabbed hold of the shelf to catch his balance, the man humming melodically with something only he could hear, a sharp, piercing song in the Force that sang to him through the cacophony. Muttering quiet curses under his breath to the tune of the song he heard, Lumis swiped his hand over the shelf and knocked several of the items to the floor, patting the nearly vacant shelf as he felt for something he couldn’t see, and grinned when he found it, his hand clutching tightly around an obsidian blade that effortlessly sliced into his palm.

“Burn it all...” Lumis laughed, watching as thick drops of blood dripped onto the floor as he examined the knife he held. “Everything must burn, but you, pretty thing, sing so sweetly...” Lumis held the knife up to his ear, shivering as he closed his eyes and listened to the song in the Force drown out the sounds of a thousand other objects that sang, and with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes flew open, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked around him and had no idea where he was, or why there was such an appalling mess upon the floor. He sighed in relief when he saw the glowing trail his saber had made in the ground, Lumis staggered out of the room, following the path he had made, and when he returned to the hallway, he continued down the marked corridor.

“Qui-Gon!” Lumis shouted once again, waving the bloody knife in the air. “Qui-Gon, look what I found for Satine! Where are you, we need to give it to her!” There was no response, but the Sith Lord didn’t seem to mind as he shuffled erratically down the hallways, his lightsaber dragging through the ground behind him and his hand dripping blood onto the ground as he went. His voice echoed down the corridors as he shouted and laughed and cursed at nothing in particular, the isolation driving him to reach deeper and deeper into a Force that was little more than an inferno that beaconed him closer, and with nothing to hold him back, Lumis eagerly ventured forward, the madness raging within him growing only wilder the longer he wandered the halls.

He wasn’t certain how long it had been when he saw the familiar form of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn upon the ground, and with a bright grin, Lumis excitedly rushed to the man, shoving the knife into a pouch on his belt and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting for the Jedi to notice him. When Qui-Gon didn’t move, Lumis lightly nudged him with his foot, his excitement fading when the Jedi didn’t move.

“Qui-Gon!” Lumis called when the man didn’t respond. “Qui-Gon, wake up! This isn’t Mandalore! I need to go home, Satine is waiting for me!” The body didn’t move. With a huff, Lumis grabbed the Jedi’s cold hand and pulled, yanking the man’s arm and stumbling backwards when the blood made the Jedi’s hand slip from his grasp. “Qui-Gon,” Lumis said in a thick, slurred voice as he shuffled closer. “Master, I need help, the Force is...the Force is playing tricks again, I have no idea how I got here.” He grabbed Qui-Gon’s hair and pulled and frowned when the Jedi still didn’t move. “You need to come with me, I need to get back to Satine and my baby!” He laughed softly as he raised the saber in his hand. “Oh, stop it, Qui-Gon, you know how babies are made!”

Lumis swiftly brought the lightsaber down upon the Jedi’s neck, a wild grin on his face as he lifted the severed head, switched the saber off, and marched out of the room. “Come, Qui-Gon!” the Sith said brightly. “I knew you’d come along eventually, you’ve always been so helpful, Master!” Laughing softly, Lumis swung the head as he walked, humming along to the melody in the Force the dagger emitted. “Of course my love isn’t here, not with the baby! Of course she’d be on Mandalore. But first, Qui-Gon, we need a ship.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hit [Icse](http://IcseK.tumblr.com) or [Glare](http://glare-gryphon.tumblr.com) up on Tumblr!
> 
> We love kudos and comments. They are the best breakfast food (besides babies) for Sith!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The madness continues!

The image of Lumis literally draining the life from Qui-Gon continued to haunt Aestus as he nearly rushed back to his bedroom. His arms nearly itched with the need of a high, a state that should alarm him, but his need to forget for at least a few hours overrode any warning of actual addiction. He’d always been careful, balancing the edge of simply being an user and being an addict, rotating his stock of drugs to not develop any dependence on any of them in particular. Since Lumis’ arrival, he’d found himself seeking highs more often to counteract the raging flames of the Dark Side that surrounded Lumis.

Aestus was nearly stumbling with need by the time he reached his nightstand where the bliss of slick awaited him, the need for a high getting stronger as he felt the darkness flare with Lumis’ insanity from a corridor away. He yanked the drawer open, grabbing the sealed packet containing the desired tube of slick and the injector before sitting down heavily on the bed. Fumbling to open the package, he gave up and simply ripped it open, barely managing to catch the precious tube before it hit the ground. Shaking hands made it hard to load the tube and he growled in frustration while wondering if the effect would be the same if he simply drank the contents.

Smaller and far steadier hands took the tube and injector from him, gently hushing his whine as they loaded the tube with practiced ease. Aestus offered his arm without asking, sighing with relief as he felt the sting of the drug entering his bloodstream and the need fled his body.

“Good boy.” He murmured, clumsily pulling his omega into his lap as the initial high hit before laying down to curl around Anakin in relaxed peace. Maybe he should reward Anakin somehow for being so good, he thought, but it quickly fled as the rush overtook him and he entered a state of euphoria.

Sometime later, Aestus woke feeling warm, cozy, and relaxed with Anakin’s comforting scent heavy in his nose. He laid there bonelessly, basking in the contentment until a rising sense of unease lapped at the edge of his senses. As the unease grew, so too did the itch to find euphoria again in the embrace of slick, but he resisted the urge and decided to seek another temporary high within his omega’s body.

Anakin was pliant to his clumsy touches, still caught in the web of secondhand bliss and undisturbed by the uneasiness Aestus felt. His sighs were soft and kitten-like, little mewls of pleasure, as the alpha ground leisurely against him and calloused hands stroked his flat chest and belly. Aestus liked basking in these moments of slow pleasure, feeling his cock sluggishly fill with blood and harden as the pleasure mounted in his groin until it could no longer be ignored.

Nuzzling at Anakin’s neck, Aestus gripped his cock in one hand and Anakin’s hip in the other, fumbling for a moment before he slid into the warm heat still slick with his cum from their earlier foray together. He shushed Anakin’s whine at being fully woken, pressing a kiss to their bondmark to soothe him. Lazily, he thrust into the omega, his pace kept slow and gentle as he slipped into pleasure and away from the unease.

Still, the unease refused to leave him until it turned into a gaping wound in the force intent on draining him dry as well. Aestus fought against it, driving himself harder and faster into the slick heat until pleasure was once again all he could feel and his knot began to form. His thrusts were clumsier than usual, his coordination disjointed with the effect of the drugs. A few of his thrusts had Anakin squirming and whining with pain, but Aestus was determined. He rolled them over, pinning Anakin underneath him as he struggled to reach his peak through the fog of the drugged haze, his motions becoming more and more erratic until he finally crested into white hot pleasure.

Aestus collapsed on Anakin, smothering the omega into the bed, but unable to move with all the energy fled from his body. His knot tied them together, more effectively trapping Aestus in his current position than any binders could’ve done. While the euphoria of orgasm was equal to nearly any drug high, the high never lasted more than a few moments.

Unease crept back to the edge of his thoughts, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck as if he were about to be attacked. Exhausted, he was unable to do anything about it but lay there vulnerably while trying to figure out why he’d feel unease in his own home.

Lumis. He’d locked Lumis in a room to regain his sanity.

Qui-Gon. His body was in one of the storage rooms, dead through some strange feat of darkness by Lumis.

The haze fled from his mind and some feeling returned to his heavy limbs as he finally took the warning in the force for what it was. While he’d been riding the high of slick and later in Anakin’s body, the force had been trying to warn him of something happening in his home with Lumis.

Now the warning was vibrating through his very bones as he tried to move and his body failed to respond like his brain and limbs no longer belonged to the same body.  
  
Frustration grew as his body continued to fail to respond to his commands. He needed to get moving, to answer the call of the force, but the drugs had disconnected him. Or maybe he was simply experiencing paranoia caused by the oncoming crash, it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened to him. The thought didn’t stop his struggle, but some of the urgency slipped away.

In what felt like forever, Aestus finally gained control over his body again and rolled himself off of Anakin. The omega was still, his face slack with sleep or unconsciousness, Anakin’s chest still rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a moment he debated chaining him up again as was his normal precaution when leaving him alone, but the force tugged in renewed urgency and he decided against it.

Not bothering to redress, he stumbled down the hall to where he’d left Lumis, his coordination still unsteady. The door to the room was in the hall, parts of the wall still sparking where the door used to be. He didn’t bother to check inside the room, the force telling him it was empty, and the charred lines from a lightsaber down the hall proved that his insane charge had escaped his prison. The lines were blackened and cool to the touch like the rest of the wall, not a good sign if it’d been that long since Lumis had escaped.

Why he felt responsible for the man, he wasn’t quite sure. Lumis was apparently far more powerful than him with a skillset he hadn’t even known existed. Lost in the cursed orb’s web of insanity, Lumis was even more of a threat than he had been before. Aestus needed to find him before he announced his presence to the galaxy and consequently, his Master. If Darth Sidious were to find out about Lumis, he’d certainly be far more eager to take him on as his Apprentice and replace Aestus. In the past he’d always eliminated such threats, but Lumis was a version of himself, one that didn’t belong here, and he owed it to the man to help get him back in his own time.

Following the trail of the lightsaber burns, he found another trashed door pulled from the wall and lying on the floor. The trail of carnage continued into the floor and objects were scattered from their resting places both ruining the aesthetic of the room he’d painstakingly worked on for days. A quick look around didn’t turn up anything missing, but with everything scattered he’d need to go through the room’s inventory log to make sure.

It worried him that he still felt the unease in the force, but none of Lumis’ burning presence through the compound. If he was able to feel the warning, then his connection to the force was returned after the drugs had severed it during his high. To not feel the raging inferno of darkness that followed Lumis meant he’d either been killed or escaped. There was only one more place that he could’ve ended up, the room that held Qui-Gon’s body and the orb that had gotten them in this mess in the first place.

He wished he’d thought to grab his lightsaber before he left, though it was too late for it now. It’d taken a lot of effort to pull Lumis from the orb’s thrall last time and this time he didn’t have Qui-Gon to be the one to take the killing blow. Hopefully he’d still find Lumis there, trapped again in whatever fantasy the orb provided, alive if drained.

Dread filled him as the room was empty of Lumis, only the now headless body of Qui-Gon Jinn lying on the floor where he’d been left. Lumis was gone, escaped from his grasp and the force only knew where. Unless-

Aestus sprinted to the landing pad area, slapping the door open to reveal his ship missing. He cursed loudly, trying to calm the panic that made his heart race and his head swim. If Sidious found Lumis, he’d be dead, replaced. Insane wouldn’t bother the Sith, it would be just a method of control over the man. Aestus had to find him quickly, before that could happen. Except there was a galaxy to search and just one of him.

Mandalore. Lumis had been ranting about his Satine almost non-stop. It was almost certain death to travel there, but he knew Lumis wasn’t familiar with Mandalore’s closed planet philosophy and in his insanity, he probably wouldn’t of cared anyway. There was hope that Lumis would come to his senses during the eleven day journey there and return, but Aestus couldn’t take the chance of him turning towards Coruscant instead.

Ignoring the heat on his naked skin, Aestus quickly strode towards his shitty backup ship, the piece of junk nowhere near as fast or as well armed as his normal ship. His worry turned to anger as he did a quick pre-flight check that reminded him just how shitty it was, having to slam his fist into the console just to get the stupid thing to work. It took several attempts at priming the engine, but it finally choked to life, the rumble nearly jarring his neck with its roughness as he cursed its existence again. While the ship continued to warm and systems came to life, he went through the cabin to take stock of what he’d need to bring. Unlike his normal ship, he didn’t keep the food and water supplies stocked, nor pretty much anything else.

With the mental tally of the things he’d need to bring, the alpha left the ship on the landing pad and began packing everything he would need from the pantry. Time was working against him, each moment wasted on gathering supplies putting more parsecs between him and Lumis.

If Lumis weren’t him, he’d surely kill him strictly based on the amount of effort Aestus was having to put into chasing him down. Except, the thought chilled him, Lumis could do things he’d never imagined possible. He’d drained Qui-Gon of life and somehow absorbed it. He’d made the blood boil in Aestus’ veins without even meaning to do it. If he’d trained as a Jedi through Knighthood and then with Sidious, he’d probably even be able to best Aestus with a blade too. For the first time, he felt a fear that surpassed the fear he had for his Master.

Fear that was quickly squashed by his anger at having to make the journey and possibly have to explain why he wasn’t easily accessible to his Master should a mission arise. Potentially twenty-two days or longer without sex was already a nightmare by itself. Though it didn’t have to be, he could drag his omega along. Yes, that would certainly make such an arduous journey more pleasant. A good way to spend long days in hyperspace travel.

Pleased with his decision, Aestus threw more of the rations in the hovercrate before pushing it down the hall and into his bedroom. Anakin was awake, his head peeking out from the blankets he’d burrowed in to watch him curiously, but Aestus ignored him in favor of grabbing his travel gear and enough clothing for the trip. As almost an afterthought, he threw the extra length of chain he kept in the closet in with his other stuff.

“Get up, you’re coming with me on this trip.” He said gruffly, using the force to detach the collar from the length of chain that kept it bound to bedpost. When Anakin didn’t move quickly enough, he pulled him up and out of bed by his hair, ignoring the yelp it brought, and secured the collar around his neck. There would be necessary fuel stops along the way to Mandalore and Aestus didn’t trust the security on the junk ship to hold Anakin. Not after the last time he’d managed to rewire the security doors to the compound.

One last look around didn’t show anything else he needed and he sealed the hovercrate to load on the ship. Anakin stood nervously where he had left him, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground and shoulders hunched protectively, waiting on the blow to come that Aestus didn’t feel the need to give. At least not at the moment, now while the time was ticking and he needed to be on his way to hopefully catch Lumis’ trail before it went cold. There would be plenty of time for that in the ship if it became necessary. Or he simply wanted to.

“Let’s go.” He ushered Anakin out, pushing the hovercrate in front of him while he kept his eye on the omega. Damn Lumis and his obsession with some stupid bitch. Why he couldn’t simply stay where he’d put him, Aestus didn’t know. What he did know was that the Sith was causing him untold problems and despite his fear and respect for the man, he could still find a way to kill him if he didn’t comply with his wishes.

After all, he’d eliminated many a rival to maintain his status as a Sith Apprentice. Lumis could share his face, his childhood, and the name he’d long abandoned, but he wouldn’t share his place.

  
  


“What do you think you’re doing?”

The sudden question startled Anakin, making the omega fumble with the dark traveling cloak he had just pulled from Aestus’ satchel to cover his nakedness. He hadn’t heard the alpha return to the cabin, nor had he expected him to be back so soon. In fact, Anakin hadn’t expected him to come back at all, once they’d touched down at the fuel station they had tracked Aestus’ stolen ship to. By now Lumis had already continued on his way, but their own ship was in need of fuel, and Aestus wanted to check on the mess Lumis was leaving behind him. There was really no reason for Aestus to check on him, having already given the omega instructions to remain in the cabin while he went about his business.

Up until this point, the steady stream of drugs and sex had kept the alpha some semblance of calm. Almost personable, Anakin might have said, had their situation been different. He had allowed Anakin to eat and drink regularly, to speak with relative freedom, and even to catch a few hours of unmolested sleep when he passed out from his drugged high. It didn’t matter that those hours were spent either on the cold floor of the ship, a thin sheet from the bed and a flattened pillow the only comforts he was afforded, or crammed between Aestus and the wall on the small bunk, the chance to rest without fearing waking up to a cock roughly shoved into his ass was far too great an opportunity to go unmissed. In fact, with the way the trip was going, Anakin had silently begun to hope that it could be the opportunity he had been waiting patiently for.

So when the ship dropped from hyperspace, Anakin had began to prepare, working himself up for the chance he knew would only come once. Not once had he been allowed out of Aestus’ den, let alone off-planet, since his initial abduction. He’d almost begun to give up hope of escape before now, resigning himself to the fact that Aestus intended to keep him tied to his bed for the rest of his undoubtedly numbered days. But a fuel station in the Outer Rim, so many vessels coming and going to and from the farthest reaches of the galaxy, it would be easy to disappear quickly. If he could sneak aboard a departing ship, Aestus would never find him before it was too late.

There was no way that could happen now. Not with Aestus standing in the doorway of the ship’s tiny cabin, leaning heavily against the frame, watching Anakin with narrowed eyes..

“You weren’t planning on trying to leave, were you Anakin?” Aestus asked, but the tone of his voice suggested that he already knew the answer to that question. There was little else he could have been doing, Anakin realized, as he fumbled for a way to spin the situation.

“N-no,” he sputtered weakly, curling in on himself as the alpha stepped into the room, “no, Master, I was just—”

“You were trying to _leave_!” Aestus accused harshly, and Anakin stumbled backwards until he hit the wall and could go no further.

When Aestus lunged, he bolted, ducking under the alpha’s arms and and out the door into the narrow hall. The boarding ramp wasn’t far, he could make it. At this point, his nakedness didn’t matter. Stranded out in the port naked and collared would be better than whatever Aestus had planned for him now that Aestus had discovered his deception.

He didn’t make it far, however, swept off his feet and tossed roughly to the ground while he fumbled with the ramp’s release switch. The impact dazed him when his head struck the durasteel floor, stars flashing before his eyes and rendering him defenseless when the alpha grabbed handful of his hair.

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re trying to leave?” the alpha snarled, dragging him back into the small cabin. “After I took you in, after I kept you safe, after I kept you warm and fed and protected you!”

The breath was knocked from Anakin anew as Aestus tossed him roughly onto the bunk, the alpha flipping him onto his stomach and craning his head back with the grip on his hair. The Force pulsed around them as Aestus summoned something to his hand, and Anakin struggled at the familiar sight of the chain that had kept him tied to Aestus as securely as the bond between them.

“All of those alphas you passed in the streets: any one of them could have set their eyes on you. They could have hurt you, Anakin. I saved you from that, and from what would have happened if you’d made it to your whore Senator. I’ve kept your womb empty, kept you safe from the dangers of carrying and birthing a child. But her, Anakin? Why, your dear senator wouldn’t have hesitated to fuck her seed into you. To fill you up with her pups. What do you think would have happened, if the Jedi had found out about your affair? They would have cast you out, would have taken your child, left you with nothing and nowhere to go.

“I’ve done so much for you, Anakin, and this is how you repay me?”

He whined as the chain was connected anew to the collar and secured to the frame of the bunk. He would be going nowhere now, his plan failed before it had even begun, and when Aestus pulled away, he was foolish enough to hope that this new confinement would be enough to appease the alpha.

This, of course, was not the case. Aestus rustled through his bag, and Anakin felt his blood run cold when the alpha pulled a muzzle from its confines. It’d been some time since Aestus had dragged it out, not since the early days of their relationship when Anakin still scratched and clawed and bit whenever the alpha tried to handle him. Once he had settled, learning that submitting to Aestus’ desires brought less pain and occasional reward, the muzzle had been stored away and not seen again until now.

There was none of that submission as Aestus turned back to him, thrashing and pulling at the chain that prevented him from moving far from the bunk, a warning growl issuing from somewhere deep in his throat. Still, this display of aggression didn’t seem to phase the alpha, who caught hold of him and easily stopped his flailing with strong arms. The wire mesh was pressed roughly against his face, tight against the bridge of his nose and the line of his jaw as the alpha wrestled the clasps closed at the back of his head.

“There would be no escape for you here, anyway. You think it’s bad here with me?” Aestus growled, releasing him, and hopelessness rendered Anakin’s leg too weak to hold him. He sunk to the floor at the alpha’s feet, staring up at the man with wide, wet eyes. “Oh sweetheart, the things they’d do with something like you would make you _ache_ for the days you’ve spent beneath me.”

He narrowed his eyes contemplatively, and Anakin’s stomach turned anew. It was never a good thing, when Aestus got one of his ideas. Those ideas were what got him raped, got mated and bonded, what brought him on to this shitty ship in the first place. “Perhaps I should leave you to them,” the alpha hissed, unclasping the chain from the bunk, “since you clearly find my company so detestable!”

A sharp yank of the chain dragged Anakin forward across the floor, and the omega shrieked and writhed as Aestus dragged him out of the cabin and toward the ship’s boarding ramp. He couldn’t get his feet under him, and couldn’t protest as he would have preferred with the restraint of the muzzle. But he whimpered and whined, clawed at the chain and scrambled for purchase on the floor. He may have been fine had he made it out of the ship on his first attempt, but naked, chained, and muzzled? Aestus was right: there were alphas out there that would eat him alive. That would take him and use him mind and body, then sell him to the highest bidder once they’d had their fill. He’d seen it happen to young omegas on Tatooine, over and over and over again, until they were too broken to be used and someone put a blaster bolt in their skull.

It was only when Aestus stopped that he dared look up, dared hope that his mate had decided to take pity on him. He could feel the flush to his face, feel the tears that leaked down his cheeks, and loathed every second of this humiliation, and this desperate cling to the devil he knew.

“Have you changed your mind, then?” Aestus asked, watching Anakin through narrowed eyes. The omega couldn’t speak for the terror constricting his throat, couldn’t beg and couldn’t plead, but he nodded fiercely, working his way across the floor to clutch at Aestus’ pant legs. He was rubbing his face into the man’s calves when a firm hand settled in his hair. “Good boy,” the alpha crooned. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

Anakin didn’t fight when the alpha bent to scoop him up, carrying him back to the cabin, didn’t fight when Aestus laid him on the bunk, or when the chain was attached to the frame once again. He expected the alpha to roll him onto his belly, to take his body the way he always did when Anakin acted out and to remind him of exactly where he belonged, but to his surprise, nothing happened. Nothing more than a hand in his hair again, brushing it back before running along the edge of the muzzle.

“There’s my good boy,” Aestus purred, stroking down Anakin’s throat and to his belly. “Now you wait right here, and I’ll get us fueled up.”

Anakin nodded dazedly, pressing into Aestus’ gentle touch. The alpha chuckled, bending down drink in his scent. His voice was thicker, lust-laden when he continued, “We’ll have some fun when I return.”

“Y-yes, Master,” Anakin hoarsely replied, and only when Aestus had left the cabin, when the boarding ramp had closed behind him, did he allow hiccuping sobs to escape him.

 

 

With the omega secured in his cabin, Aestus stood, arms crossed, at the bottom of the boarding ramp, looking out over the typically bustling fuel station with resignation. He had expected something to be amiss when no one came running when he touched down. As he’d told Anakin on the ship, it was hardly a reputable sort of place, and it wasn’t uncommon for one shady character or another to demand recompense for using the facility beyond simply paying for the fuel. Of course, he had never paid those bribes once, sending whatever bottom feeder that approached him running with their tail between their legs, but it was a pattern that had grown almost comforting in the years he had been hanging around this particular wretched hive of scum and villainy. Instead, as he strolled to pay for his fuel, he was met with a sea of blank expressions and soft, disquieting murmurs.

If he’d not seen this particular affliction before, Aestus was almost certain he never would have stepped off the ramp to investigate the trail of destruction left in his new brother’s wake. Between Lumis’ lingering imprint upon the Force--a wild, chaotic darkness that clawed at Aestus’ weak shields--and the stale, scentless beings that shuffled lifelessly across the landing pad, he would have immediately been set on edge. If he had not watched Lumis reduce Qui-Gon Jinn to such a state, and known that this living hell was not something that could spread to himself or his omega, tucked away in their vessel, he would’ve gotten on his ship and fled.

Even knowing he was unable to catch their particular affliction, it was still unsettling to push his way through the sea of living undead to make his way over to the landing pad’s fueling station. As he set up the pump, he hummed to himself, mostly to have some noise instead of the eerie quiet as he went about checking the ship.

Aestus wasn’t entirely surprised by the current state of the station, especially considering the shape his brother was in when he broke free from his impromptu prison. Lumis had been out of his mind when he’d locked him away, and he’d hoped his brother would come to his senses with time. Based on what he saw here, it seemed that was not the case, Lumis’ disciplined control over the Force apparently fleeing with his sanity. Instead of the careful mental manipulation he had proven himself capable of, Lumis had bulldozed his way through the beings’ minds, rendering them little more than husks of themselves as the very essence of who they were was cruelly snatched away and replaced with unthinking compliance.

It would be a shame, he thought as he glanced around at the lifeless beings that wandered the stations like ghosts, to lose the convenience of this particular station. It was the closest to his den, and he had the dealer that skulked about well enough trained that he could get most anything he needed on short notice for a fair enough price. From drugs to omega birth control, the Rodian dealer was willing and able to procure almost anything Aestus had ever required. And it wasn’t always drugs; sometimes he simply paid the alien to purchase his basic supplies when he had no desire to go out in search of them himself.

That reminded him, Aestus had placed an order with him only shortly before leaving to acquire Lumis from Malastare. With luck, it should have already been filled, awaiting pickup on the platform where the Rodian usually parked his ship. It was likely that the effects of Lumis’ mind control had reached the man, but Aestus couldn’t say he felt particularly upset about not having to pay him. Simply the inconvenience of having to find another supplier when good, reliable dealers were so hard to come by these days.

Leaving the ship to keep fueling, it wasn’t as though anyone was going to steal it after all, Aestus strode off in search of the familiar vessel.

It was easy to find, parked exactly where he expected it to be. The reach of Lumis’ mind control was not as thorough this far away from where his ship must have touched down, a few surviving souls cowering from the strangeness of those around them. They did not try to stop him as he made his way up the cargo ramp of the ship, too anxious to loot what they could easily and depart. No doubt the survivors would spread word of the strange happenings here, and the Jedi Order would descend upon the station in short order. He would have to do something about the mindless victims Lumis had left in his wake, he realized. It would not do to leave them a trail leading back to the den, not when he had gone to such lengths to keep it hidden from both his Master and the Order for so long.

But first, his things.

As he feared, the Rodian dealer stood all but lifeless in the cargo hold of his ship, swaying unsteadily on his feet and muttering under his breath as he stared blankly into the distance. Something about Satine, _Satine, his dear Satine_. Aestus huffed unhappily that his suspicions about Lumis’ departure were confirmed, but at least he knew he was on the right track to finding his wayward twin. Pushing past the green-skinned alien, he sorted through the crates remaining in the vessel to locate the ones intended for him, hoping they hadn’t been stolen yet.

He found them near the back of the hold, stacked on a hovercart and ready for him to collect. A crate full of the ration packs he and Anakin usually ate, another full of fresh produce that would have to be eaten on the trip or it would go to waste, and a medical kit. In with the kit were the items he was most hoping to find still intact: syringes of slick and packs of cigarras. It had been years since he had kept the Stealthipede gifted by his Master stocked with the necessary supplies for extended journeys, and what he’d thrown into his pack was quickly running out. Without this stop, he wouldn’t have had enough to keep the edge of the dark side at bay through the journey to Mandalore, let alone the trip back, and he had no desire to be lost to the clutches of the dark side as he had been as a boy. Certainly not when he would be forced to deal with such a delicate situation, considering Mandalore’s hostility to everyone and everything that did not originate on the planet’s surface.

As he pushed the cart back toward the ramp, however, another crate caught his attention from the corner of his eye. There was nothing particularly special about it, identical to all the others in size and shape and color, but for some reason he felt drawn to it. The only distinguishing feature was the small label on the lid of the crate, which read ‘Savoruim” in the Rodian’s messy scrawl. He had heard that name before, whispered on street corners over the exchange of credits or in the drug dens where everything was at arm’s reach. He didn’t know what the drug did, but he had never been one to let an opportunity to go to waste, and he stuffed a handful of the powder-filled packets into the pocket of his trousers.

For now, he had cleanup to do before he could leave.

  
  


Unaware of his brother hot on his trail, Darth Lumis wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle, threw his head back, and watched with hazy, unfocused eyes as the amber liquid was quickly drained and the bottle left empty. He made to toss it in the corner with the other empty bottles, but settled instead for allowing it to roll from his slack grip down the aisle of the cockpit to cling against the closed doors. Lumis giggled softly as he leaned back, his head striking the console behind him, the heel of his boot scraping against the floor where he sat. His head lolled back, his eyes focusing up at the copilot’s seat turned toward him and the sole occupant of the chair, and Lumis frowned.

“Qui-Gon!” the Sith Lord commanded, his accent thick and heavily slurred with his severe intoxication. “You haven’t had enough to drink! If you don’t...” Lumis stopped, shaking his head for a moment before he rubbed his temple and slid gracelessly down the console to lay upon the floor. “If you don’t have more, how will you forget that your Master and your Padawan are Siiiiiiiith Lords?”

The severed head did not respond, only stared sightlessly forward with eyes clouded with death, though Lumis didn’t seem to notice nor mind when he frowned, his nose wrinkling as he extended his hand upwards and shivered as another bottle of high-end Corellian brandy flew to his hand.

“I know, I know, you’re right...” Lumis muttered as he sluggishly slid back to a sitting position slumped against the console. “Someone needs to fly this ship home.” He scoffed, helpless laughter tumbling from his lips as he broke open the neck of the bottle and poured the burning liquid into his mouth. “Do you think Satine will be cross I’m so late?” he asked, once again looking at the head on the seat before he rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up, what do you know? You’re just cross that I was right about your hair!” Lumis slurred, dropping the half empty bottle and reaching up with an unsteady hand to tug at the thick braid he had put Qui-Gon’s graying brown hair in. The head fell to the side, and with a hiss of annoyance, Lumis quickly reached up to right the head once again.

“It looks good, stop being so sullen...” Lumis gently admonished. “And the girls at the cantina loved it, they couldn’t stop looking at you! If I didn’t have a queen and a child to return to, I’d be jealous!” With a desperate whimper, Lumis shut his eyes, his hands sliding into his thick hair and gripping it tightly as he rocked where he sat on the floor.

“The Force is on fire, Qui-Gon...” Lumis whispered, a manic laugh tumbling from trembling lips before his shoulders shook with dry sobs. “I reach out to touch it and it burns me. I can smell the heat and the ash, I can feel the blistering of my skin, I open my eyes and all I see if fire as the galaxy burns...this ship, that planes, every person on every world, screaming as they die so beautifully in the flames...” With a sad, desperate smile, Lumis looked up at his silent companion. “Even you and me, Qui-Gon, dying spectacularly as we are consumed by flames.”

He reached absently at his side and felt for the hilt of the knife he had brought with him from Mustafar, an ancient, beautiful thing that seemed to fit perfectly in his hand, that seemed to call to him, that felt as though it had been made specifically for his grasp. It sang in the Force, a deep, soulful resonance that called to something deep within him, that called his name, that recognized and named him as a Dark Side Master like Sidious never did, even though he knew he was ready. It spoke to something deep inside Lumis lurking in the deepest reaches of the Dark Side, something ancient and dangerous that had always been there laying in wait to look upon those worthy, and now, Lumis felt that it saw him.

“Satine and I...” Lumis muttered as he lightly ran his fingers along the sharp edge of the blade. “Together, my Mand’alor and I shall take this galaxy by storm, we will burn them all. Everything, everything, consumed by flames, it will all burn with me.” Lumis sighed, reached up, and affectionately patted Qui-Gon’s cheek, a mad smile on his lips as he shivered with the feel of the Force burning within him. “Burn with me, Qui-Gon...” the Sith Lord whispered. “You, me, and this entire galaxy, and when it’s over, my Satine and my son will rule with me over the ashes...”

Manic laughter was drawn out of the man, his eyes wide and wild as he spun the ancient ritual blade between his dexterous fingers. He grinned as he listened to the blade as it cut through the air, closed his eyes as he felt it’s presence through the raging flames of the Force, a slow, soft song of darkness and shadow filling his mind as it called to him, and he brought the blade to his cheek and laid it flat against his skin, sighing softly as the cool stone soothed the heat he felt burning within him.

“Hmmm Hmmm Mmmhmmm...” Lumis softly hummed along with the gentle music of the knife’s song in the Force, swaying where he sat as he listened, and he reached up to clasp his hand over Qui-Gon’s mouth. “Shhh...” he whispered softly. “Don’t talk, just listen...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hit [Icse](http://IcseK.tumblr.com) or [Glare](http://glare-gryphon.tumblr.com) up on Tumblr!
> 
> We love kudos and comments. They are the best breakfast food (besides babies) for Sith!


	3. Chapter 3

“I told you, Qui-Gon, I know what I’m doing!” Lumis shouted to be heard above the blaring alarms, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask that covered his face as smoke filled the cockpit, the Sith Lord fiddling to secure the mask to the head sitting on the ship’s console, careful to avoid upsetting the wide-brimmed sunhat covering the graying hair. “You should already know this, Master...” Lumis hissed in annoyance with a roll of his eyes. “They say it on every public safety advisement before every ship in the galaxy departs. In the event of an emergency, put your mask on first before rendering assistance to others.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder down the hallway at the fire that was raging in the corridor just outside the cockpit, and with a small, amused laugh, he turned back to the Jedi and slumped in his seat.

“It isn’t an emergency, of course, but you get the point,” Lumis drawled as he moved the head to the copilot’s seat and flicked a few switched on the console to activate the ventilation fans, which immediately began clearing the air of smoke. “No, stupid, I did this for you!” Lumis snapped almost gently, laying the back of his hand on the former Jedi’s cheek. “You are positively freezing, and I won’t stand for it. This is how people get sick and die. Force help me, you are getting old...” he said, brushing dirt off his crisp, clean new robes and spinning his seat around to look at the fire.

The origin of the fire was Lumis’ old robes, the ragged, dirty things deemed unworthy to meet his lady love in, leading the Sith Lord to detour to the nearest major city, strip off his old robes, and leave the ship in little more than his undergarments, Qui-Gon’s head tucked lovingly into the bend of his elbow. It was with great fortune that the store he happened to visit carried exactly the things he was looking for, stylish enough to appeal to his sense of aesthetic, and the shopkeeps had been kind enough to simply give him everything he asked for. Pleased with his stroke of good fortune and the new hat he had found for his Jedi companion, Lumis returned to the ship, set course for Mandalore, and after a few solid hours of contemplating his old, offensive robes, decided to burn them.

By the time the air had been cleared of smoke and the blaring alarms had silenced, the ship had lurched forward as the blue and white of hyperspace faded, and the Sith Lord’s eyes were pulled from the dying flames in the hallway to the planet hanging in space just outside the viewport. A thin, pitiful whine slipped past his lips as he grabbed hold of the controls, the man nearly slipping out of the pilot’s seat as his hands tightened around the accelerator as he pushed the ship full speed toward the planet, the cockpit shaking as he slipped into the planet’s atmosphere and made his approach toward Mandalore’s capital of Sundari. At long last, he was home.

He could feel the deep, persistent gnawing deep in his mind like an itch that he could not scratch, his jaw tightening and his teeth grinding together as the pain of flames licking at his memories tried to drive them from him as they rose to the surface. Screams echoed in his ears as flashes of flames and death danced before him, the feel of his son’s life fading away tightening his chest, the grief of looking upon his dying beloved weighing down his limbs as he held her. Lumis shut his eyes tight, searing pain flushing through him as he burned with Sundari, his mind straining in the grasp of madness as reality pulled at him, when suddenly the tension released, his shoulders going slack as he softly laughed with the relief of his surrender to the Dark Side and his embrace of the burning pain and rush of power within him. Everything was fine. He was home, and Satine was waiting for him to return. His lovely wife would be cross with him for making her wait, naturally, but her wrath was a small weight to bear if it meant he could feel the presence of her and their dark son beside him again.

And it had felt so long since they had been beside him. Almost a lifetime ago.

“Unidentified freighter!” the open comm channel blared as it crackled to life, the Sith Lord jumping slightly as he was dragged out of his thoughts and his attention returned to the viewport before him on his fast approach to the domed city of Sundari. Flanking his ship were two of Mandalore’s distinctive Kom’rk fighters, deadly ships that carried impressive firepower in addition to twenty of Mandalore’s deadly warriors, and Lumis couldn’t help but grin. “State your intention and come no closer! Fail to comply and we will shoot you down!”

“See, Qui-Gon, look how vigilant my warriors are...” Lumis muttered as his fingers brushed over the console. “My Satine was never in any danger, I was foolish to worry.” With a wide, pleased grin, Lumis pressed the comm button, his gaze drifting toward Sundari once again and the heavily fortified opening in the side of the dome where the ports were located. “Naak, ner verda,” Lumis said in crisp, aristocratically accented Mando’a. “I have come for Satine and my son.”

There was sudden chaos on the other side of the comm channel, the brief shouts of “Jedi!” heard before the channel closed completely, and the ships at Lumis’ side dropped out from view to fall behind him. Hissing in irritation and feeling the fury well up inside him, Lumis pulled back on the yoke to slow his swift approach as well, cursing under his breath as he leaned to look out the viewport for the Jedi that the Mandalorians had spoken of when a hard impact rocked the ship and sent him sprawling to the ground. Gritting his teeth, the Sith Lord hoisted himself back into the chair amidst the newly blaring alarms, a quick look at the ship’s displays showing the warning readings of significant damage to the freighter’s port thrusters and rear engines.

“Your Jedi friends are attacking me, Qui-Gon!” Lumis shouted at the head that had been unseated from the copilot’s chair to be knocked about in the cockpit’s aisle. “Damn it, where are they?!” He grabbed the yoke tight as he disengaged the thrusters, leaning forward to look out the cockpit for the attacking ships as his own began to spin out of control toward the domed shell of the city. A second impact his the ship, new alarms blaring as Lumis slammed his fist into the console, the displays sparking as they were destroyed and silencing the alarms. Grasping the yoke hear and fighting against the spin of the ship, Lumis pulled back to angle the nose up, the entire cockpit groaning and shaking as the Sith Lord evened the crashing ship out and angled it toward the entrance to the city.

The ship’s burning wing clipped the edge of the dome’s opening, the grinding sound of scraping metal making Lumis cringe as it began spinning wildly, and the Sith Lord was thrown from his seat when the ship bounced and skidded along the fortified port’s main bay. For the next few moments, Lumis could see nothing, his vision sightless as he laid draped over the now horizontal copilot’s seat, the groaning of metal and the crackling of burning machinery filling his ears and the acrid scent of electrical fires burning his nostrils. He couldn’t move, his thin limbs aching and protesting, his chest screaming with pain with each shallow breath of air and his empty stomach twisting in irritated, nauseous knots. 

When his vision returned, he found himself staring at a wrecked pilot’s seat hanging from broken supports, the entire cabin turned sideways and dark, lit occasionally by the flash of sparking wires from the crushed console. Groaning and rubbing at his aching head, Lumis reached out to the ground he was hanging over to grab at Qui-Gon’s hair and pulled the head to him, clutching it to his chest and muttering quiet reassurances to it as he absently stroked the graying hair. Extending his hand toward the opposite wall, Lumis centered himself and pushed hard with the Force, causing the cracked viewport to shatter. Slipping from the chair he hung on, Lumis’ feet touched the ground and he pushed off the ground to jump through the new opening to land upon the dock.

Gasping in relief as he saw the Mandalorian warriors running across the dock toward him along the deep gouges in the permacrete, Lumis drew up tall and walked swiftly toward them. “Did you get them?!” he asked in a commanding voice, his finger pointed up toward the sky. “Did you get the Jedi?”

He didn’t have the chance to say another word as the sharp, hard shriek of blaster fire sounded through the air, and the Sith Lord only just managed to turn his body sideways, the plasma bolt striking across the right side of his chest and sending pain shooting through him as he was knocked to the ground. For a moment, all he could do was lay there, uncertain of what had just happened before his mind slowly pieced together that his own people had very intentionally, deliberately shot him. He whined softly, felt his eyes sting with tears he couldn’t blink away as he struggled to understand, and was only rewarded with painful memories that were not his own, of a world where Qui-Gon Jinn had raped and impregnated his Satine, of a world where she had never loved Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

It was worse than watching her and his son die, the void in his chest where his heart should have been screaming with rage and emptiness at things his feverish mind couldn’t understand, and when he saw the head of his Master laying just out of reach, he was filled with new purpose, the permacrete and steel around him beginning to shake and groan and crack as the Dark Side filled him. Red eyes snapped to the warriors that slowly approached as he pushed himself to his feet, the whine of charging blasters lasting only for a moment before every weapon was swiftly dropped, the Sith Lord’s hands clenched tightly before him as the Mandalorians rose up into the air, their legs kicking and their bodies writhing as they scratched at their necks.

“Why!” Lumis snarled, his fists crackling with blue arcs of static as he watched the suffering people before him. “Why would you shoot me down?! Why would you keep me from my Satine!?” Strangled screams filled the air for just a moment before the bodies were slammed hard to the ground, again and again until the pavement was cracked and dented and the warriors little more than broken, bloody shreds of bone and armor. The Sith Lord unceremoniously released his grasp upon them, looking at the mess with a scowl and sneering as he snatched Qui-Gon’s head from the ground.

“You, Master, have been very, very bad...” Lumis snapped at the head, his eyes twitching in irritation as he drew his lightsaber from his belt and ignited the red blade as he watched distant soldiers come rushing toward him. “She will be safe...” he muttered. “I will fix this mess you have made and my Satine will be safe. I’ll protect her. Now and forever...”

  
  


Duchess Satine Kryze sat on her throne, cold and tense and terrified beyond measure as she waited for the inevitable to come, her blaster held tightly in her shaking hands, already primed and ready to fire at a moment’s notice, and she had always been a very good shot. Her forces had already been pushed back, the intruder already in the palace and making his way toward the throne room without hesitation, as if he had been there before and already knew the way. A single man, they had said, a lone Jedi wielding a lightsaber and swiftly dispatching anyone in his way with a wave of his hand that sent men flying to be crushed against the walls and the high vaulted ceilings, or by blue lightning that sprung from the tips of his fingers, or by seemingly nothing at all as their soldiers seemed to boil inside their armor.

Jedi...

She had spent her life wondering when this would happen. When her vile, repulsive, unwanted mate would come for her. Satine had hoped he never would, had spent years unraveling the damage done to her with the help of her sister and her oversized omega, had spent countless nights laying awake at night as she cried with the memory of her abuse, her months of slavery to her alpha Jedi protector who taught her that her place was beneath him, nothing more than a needy hole meant to take his knot whenever he wished it. And she had thanked him for it, had begged him to use her because she believe him, because she was made to think she loved him, had treasured the bonding bite that she could no longer stand to look at, had felt elated to feel his son growing within her, only to later come to be sickened by it when he cast her aside like she was nothing. And even still, for many years after, even as she prayed he would never return, a small part of her, the part she hated, yearned for her mate to come back.

Now that he had, she couldn’t stop shaking as the prospect of returning to sexual slavery tied her gut into wretched knots.

“He won’t get past us, Duchess...” Pre Vizsla said gently, his large hand on her small, shaking shoulder, and she swallowed hard, her eyes on her sister as she paced and snarled and snapped at her soldiers, her heavy blaster humming with charged bolts in her hand as she hyped herself up, eager to slay the Jedi filth that harmed her family.

“I-is Korkie safe?” Satine asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts, and the large omega nodded.

“Of course.”

“Pre, what am I going to do if he kills you and Bo-”

“That isn’t going to happen,” he said firmly, and Satine believe it, if only for a moment, the unshakable confidence in his alpha an inspiration that made her feel it might be alright.

The fear returned in an instant when the barricaded throne room doors were thrown open as if they were nothing, the soldiers rushing forward to meet the invader, only to be swept aside by a violent gust of wind that sent them crashing into the walls so hard the stone cracked on impact. With a savage, snarling scream of rage, Bo-Katan rushed forward, her weapon raised as she fired at the intruder, only for his blood red blade to effortlessly slice her blaster in half, and a moment later, a swift kick to the back of her knees sent the woman slamming to the ground.

With a shout of fury, Pre Vizsla rushed in, his blasters in his hands and rapidly firing, but the intruder hardly seemed to notice, the blade seeming to move on its own to effortlessly deflect every shot. With a reach of his hand, Pre was grabbed seemingly by the air itself and pulled hard toward the errant Jedi, the man sidestepping out of the way as the huge omega slammed into his mate and sent them both skidding across the floor to land in a groaning heap. Satine quickly stood from her throne, the blaster in her hands and pointed at the man even though she was shaking terribly, but she lowered the weapon when she looked at him, the intruder freezing on the spot, gold eyes wide, almost lost, and with a soft whimper, his knees buckled as he staggered forward, his lightsaber slipping from his fingers to clatter to the ground and tightly grasping a fistful of graying hair upon a severed head that the Duchess dare not look at, her eyes focused instead upon the face of the intruder.

This was not Qui-Gon Jinn. Not even close. This man was smaller, clad in black, singed robes that vaguely resembled the Jedi’s, had the Jedi been vain enough for such elegance. His frame was thin, far too thin, more than any man should ever be, and this man was markedly not alpha. His scent was...strange, almost muted, barely even perceptible and could only be characterized as bland, little more than a crisp, clean smell in the air. And he was handsome, terribly so, his golden hair ruffled, his breathing fast and uneven, his face flushed and his eerie, golden eyes filled with desperation and longing that Satine couldn’t understand. Starting back to action as if he remembered he was a human and not a painting, the Jedi swiftly ran his shaking hand through his hair, hesitantly, reverently approached the throne, and stopped again when she raised her blaster, an a wounded look in his expression what was shattered by something that looked like relief and recognition, like he was seeing a dear friend once again after being cruelly parted for so long.

But Satine had never met him. She was certain of it. She’d have remembered this one.

He casually tossed the head in his hand toward her, the object rolling across the space between them and only stopping when it had touched the steps at the bottom of the throne. Satine dared not look at it, refusing to take her eyes from this strange man, because he wouldn’t take his eyes from her. It was like he was expecting something, she thought, like he was waiting for her to do something, to say something, like he needed it. This man, despite how dangerous he was, how easily he had broken past their defenses and stormed the palace...wasn’t a threat. He couldn’t be, not with the way he was looking at her, like nothing else in the galaxy mattered but her, like she was his entire world. It was, at the heart of it, absolute submission, and Satine didn’t know what to do with such a thing. Nobody had ever looked at her that way before. Nobody.

But she knew that once, a very long time ago, she had looked at Qui-Gon Jinn that way.

Slowly, she took her eyes away from the man, and looked down at what he had brought her, and though she could never forget that face, it took her a moment for it to sink in. On the ground before her lay the head of Qui-Gon Jinn, the dark blue eyes sill open and clouded with death, the skin pale, the wound on his neck black and cauterized, the brown hair graying with age. But it was him. There was no mistaking it, not with the way her chest swelled with a mix of pain and breathless joy, not when her hand unconsciously moved to touch at the scar of the bonding bite he had left on her neck so long ago, the faded mark seeming to tingle and burn as she looked upon the lifeless face of the man that had tormented her long after he had left her abused and pregnant with his child.

She slowly looked back up to gaze into the adoring eyes of the man who had presumably killed this Jedi, and Satine couldn’t help but smile, and with a desperate, almost pained groan, the man dropped to his knees before her, his head bowed and his hands clutching at the dark blue runner.

“Satine...” he choked, her name on his tongue sweet and reverent. “Gar vaabir nayc’ganar at’chaabar or'atu. Gar're morut'yc jii,” he said in softly drawled Mando’a, accented with a gentle, aristocratic clip, but otherwise perfect in his diction. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore,” he had said. “You’re safe now.”

“You speak Mando’a?” Satine asked slowly, observing the man as he shuddered and groaned in almost blissful relief. “Where did you learn?”

He looked up at her from his place on the ground and sat back on his heels, silent for a moment as he just looked at her, reveling in the sound of her voice, her very presence in the Force vibrant and alive like he had thought he would never feel again. He swallowed hard, tried to answer, “You taught me, sweet Satine, I learned it from you,” but the words catch in his throat, and all he can do is gasp in breathless wonder at the woman standing only feet before him when he still ached with the pain of only seeing her in his nightmares and on the other side of the veil of death. When he met her eyes, he didn’t think he could breathe, couldn’t look away, felt himself waver unsteady where he knelt, his chest aching and the wound in his heart bleeding anew, but for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t mind.

“Are you a Jedi?” Satine asked softly, trying a simpler question when the man failed to answer, and he swallowed hard and shook his head, but never looked away frm her. “What’s your name?”

“Obi-Wan...” he choked, his voice thick and raw with emotion, and for just a moment, he looked away from her, his brow drawn together as if he was confused, considering what he had said, and he nodded, cleared his throat, and looked back, the faintest, hopeful smile on his lips. “My name is Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan...” Satine said softly, the man on the ground bowing his head as a shuddered, desperate moan fell from his lips. Anything Satine was going to say quickly fled from her mind when she caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye, and before she had a chance to utter a word, Bo-Katan, recovered from the assault, had rushed forward and swiftly wrapped a Force suppressing collar around the kneeling, vulnerable man’s neck and snapped it closed, the device locking and activating as the man’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then rage, and then searing agony as the Force, that vital piece of himself, was ripped from him, leaving a painful, aching void in its wake.

He collapsed to the ground, his hands wrapping around the device to pull it free, and a powerful, electric jolt was sent rushing through him, his eyes shut tight and his body convulsing as he began to scream.  With a victorious scoff, Bo-Katan slowly approached the writhing man, sneered at him with a look of disgust upon her face, and mounted the steps to stand beside her horrified sister.

“Jedi filth...” the warrior spat, looking over her sister and quickly checking for injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Bo, stop this, let him go!” Satine said quietly, drawing closer to the alpha, but keeping an eye on the suffering man. “He isn’t a threat to us, please.”

“Not a threat?” Bo-Katan said in disbelief, looking at the man in question as he clawed at the runner, his back heaving with pain. She had collared many Force sensitives in her day, but they rarely reacted so violently to it. He must have been terribly powerful to feel the Force’s absence so keenly. “Not a threat?! Sister, he stormed the palace, he killed our men! A single Jedi, that was all it took to get to you, of course he’s a threat!” She paused, her eyes drifting to the base of the steps. “...is that a kriffing head?”

“Yes, it just so happens to be,” Satine said stiffly, drawing up to her full height. “The head of Qui-Gon Jinn, if you must know, and Obi-Wan brought it to me!”

“...that’s him?” Bo-Katan asked, rushing down the steps to grab the long, graying hair and lift the dismembered head from the ground, her eyes narrowed and examining it with a critical eye. She had a thousand things to say about it, how the son Satine had born had the man’s eyes, but little else, how the obvious, enormous size difference between what this man must have been and her own diminutive sister filled her with a new wave of revulsion, but she said none of it, instead dropping the head back to the ground and wiping her hand off on her armor.

“Well, I suppose we can return this Jedi to his Temple instead of executing him,” Bo said as she climbed back up the steps, frowning as her sister winced as the man on the ground began a new bout of tortured screams muffled by the bend of his elbow.

“We will do no such thing, he says he’s not a Jedi,” Satine said swiftly, looking between the man and her sister with increasing distress that made the alpha instinctively begin to fret over her omega sister’s well-being.

“Satine...” the man groaned from the floor, his back rising and falling unevenly with his erratic breaths. “Satine, help me...p-please, help...”

“This is torture!” Satine snapped, reeling on her sister, but her eyes were wide and wet and pleading, not angry. “Please, Bo, I will not abide by this, it is cruel!”

“And what would you have me do?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “He fought his way in here with little difficulty, and we just removed his weapon. What do you suppose is going to happen when we let him go, hmm? You don’t think he might be angry?”

“He isn’t a threat, Bo!” Satine insisted, but the alpha simply shook her head.

“We can’t risk it. I’m sorry, Satine, but we can’t. You don’t know him, and you don’t know what he would do. You know how Jedi lie and deceive to get what they want. This one is no better.” She sighed heavily when Satine looked at the man, her face pale and drawn as she listened to the anguished screams and the desperate, pleading chant of her name as it fell from his lips, and biting on her lower lip, slowly nodded.

“...contact the Jedi...” she whispered, looking away from the man when he looked up at her with heartbroken eyes. “See that he doesn’t suffer, Bo.”

“I will.”

The Duchess nodded, and gave the man a final glance. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” she whispered before she turned from him and left the room, her hand clenched to hide how badly it was shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hit [Icse](http://IcseK.tumblr.com) or [Glare](http://glare-gryphon.tumblr.com) up on Tumblr!
> 
> We love kudos and comments. They are the best breakfast food (besides babies) for Sith!


	4. Chapter 4

No sooner had Pre vanished from sight as he guided Duchess Satine from the throne room did the hall erupt once again into screams as the thrumming hiss of a lightsaber activated and struck through armor and flesh and bone. Bo-Katan rolled her eyes and hissed in irritation as she turned to look at the sudden carnage behind her as her prisoner, a suspected Jedi cut off from the Force by the collar around his neck, brandished his red lightsaber against her soldiers and swiftly struck down anyone who came near. Only moments before, he had been screaming in agony upon the floor at the sudden loss of his connection to the Force, more painful to him than it had been on anyone else Bo had ever collared. Either he was tremendously powerful and so deeply rooted in the Force that cutting him off had scooped out a bigger piece of him, or he was being a little bitch.

From the way he was fighting, Bo-Katan made the assumption it was the former.

Even without the Force, this warrior was dangerous, the blade in his hand expertly spinning, moving as if it were an extension of himself as he killed the people that were trying to disarm and detain him, and lunging for those that kept his distance when closer targets were dead. It had been a mistake not to detain and disarm him when he was a writhing mess upon the ground, but Bo had been too busy dealing with her sister, who had positively lost her mind, as, in Bo’s experience, happened to the emotional omegas from time to time. 

Satine, dear, sweet Satine, who had never had a heat since she gave birth to her son, who had never showed any desire for sex since her asshole mate, now little more than a head upon the ground, much to Bo’s delight, who had never shown any interest in any man or woman, be they alpha, beta, or omega, was suddenly acting like some smitten teenage fool upon smelling an alpha during their first heat. All those self-defense lessons, all the training in sharp shooting for this: one look at a handsome Jedi beta, and the Duchess had gone soft, suddenly going back on her Kill on Sight policy in regards to the Jedi, and all because the man had brought her a head. A head! The head of her hated mate, perhaps, but Bo could have thought of a thousand proper Mandalorian alphas for her sister that would have been proud to bring her a head. Or twenty heads, if she wished. But no, Satine was cooing over a Jedi, one that had killed her soldiers, and when Bo subdued him and slapped the suppression collar on him, she had asked for mercy.

The utter madness of it all...

The Jedi’s killing spree lasted only a few seconds in total before Bo-Katan pushed a button on the remote in her hand, and the collar around the man’s neck sparked, constricted as blue arcs of lightning discharged from the collar to lick across his body, the man tensing for just a second before planting his feet, snarling ferociously, and turning his sights on her, the dull, muted yellow of his eyes making his entire features appear sunken and skull-like, like death itself. She could have sworn that before those eyes had been bright and vivid and unnaturally glowing as the man advanced toward her, heedless of the electricity flowing through him, almost as if this Jedi had somehow grown used to the feel of lightning. 

Cursing under her breath, she turned up the power on the collar, could hear the whining of the charges priming on the collar, saw the man reach out instinctually for the Force he could not feel and groan in pain as the aching void of its absence took the strength from his legs and forced him to his knees. Bo slammed her thumb on the switch, and the sharp, harsh snap of a powerful jolt of electricity filled the air with the scent of burning flesh, the Jedi’s eyes rolling in the back of his head as he pitched to the ground, his body twitching with the electric impulses that still rushed through his body.

Bo hissed in relief and irritation as soldiers rushed forward and roughly handled the unconscious man, pushing his face and chest against the ground as they pulled his arms behind his back and fixed restraints to his wrists and searched his body for weapons, removing three lightsabers in total. With a heavy sigh, she looked around the room to survey the damage. The entire encounter from the time the captive rose from the ground and attacked until the moment he fell couldn’t have been more than fifteen seconds, and nine of her soldiers were dead. With a savage snarl of fury, Bo-Katan strode quickly to the unconscious man and slammed the armored toe of her boot as hard as she could into the long, charred and bleeding burn on the man’s chest.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck just happened?!” Bo snapped, her furious eyes shooting from soldier to soldier. “Well? Anybody?!” Nobody said anything, eyes staring in shame at the ground and refusing to meet the furious alpha’s gaze. Bo knew exactly what happened. As dangerous as he had been as he fought through the palace, this Jedi was shockingly easy to subdue, made weak and pathetic under the effects of the collar and even before that in the presence of her sister. And then Satine left, and suddenly, the man found his strength in rage, the meek and timid man gone and replaced with a savage beast of endless wrath.

“We thought he had been subdued, Alpha,” one of the soldiers said as he stepped forward, and Bo’s eyes narrowed in rage.

“Oh yeah?” she asked, gesturing broadly to the bodies on the ground. “Is that what you call subdued?!” She put up her hand for silence when he made a move to speak. “No, stop, I don’t want to hear it. There is no excuse for this. Get the men, clean up these bodies, and go secure the palace. I’ll watch the prisoner.” She watched the men quickly just to follow her command, dragging the bodies out of the throne room and leaving her along with the unconscious prisoner and kicking him twice for good measure. Satine had asked her not to hurt him, but...well, Satine wasn’t here, and she wasn’t thinking right because of the...Bo sniffed at the air, frowned, and looked curiously at the man. Save for the smell of charred flesh on his neck from where the electric prods dug into his skin and the bloody would scarring his chest, he smelled like nothing. No pheromones, no scent to be alluring to an omega, no hormones he produced that could make her sister wish to submit to him. She knew he was a beta, many Jedi were, but he was exceptionally beta. More beta than anyone else in the galaxy, perhaps, because his lack of scent was making him difficult to sense at all, made it easy for him to be unassuming, which...well, she supposed that something so scent null would be appealing to her sister.

Could also have been the head on the ground, Bo thought as she looked at the lifeless face of Satine’s mate with a wicked grin and kicked the head out of the way on her way up to the throne. Was definitely the head.

Bo ran her fingers on the arm of the throne and looked at the Jedi’s confiscated lightsabers, three hilts nearly identical, chrome silver and black made to be elegant in their simplicity, and she picked them up, turned them over in her hands, and ignited them, grinning at the surge and thrum of power in her grasp as red and blue blades burned bright before her. She’d have to give one to Pre. The oversized omega did so love gifts, and the blade of a conquered Jedi would be a fine addition to her mate’s considerable arsenal. She powered the blades off after testing their weight and swing, delighting in the sound of them slicing through the air, and she looked at the fourth blade on the throne as she clipped the three sabers to her ammo belt around her waist.

The other blade was different, the hilt rectangular instead of cylindrical, dark gray and black metal reminiscent of Mandalorian beskar masterfully layered and folded to form the stark patterns on the grip. Bo’s eyes narrowed as she looked at it, reached for it and took it in her hands, its weight substantially heavier than the other two, and she couldn’t help but feel that it was somehow familiar. She pressed the power switch, the saber almost dropping from her hand at the power of the ignition, the thrum sharp instead of low, and she couldn’t breathe as she looked at the curved, flat blade, spidering white webs of energy playing across a black blade.

The Darksaber.

Bo-Katan slowly looked to her prisoner on the ground, the man groaning softly in pain as he slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Alright, hotshot...” Bo muttered, slowly stepping down from the throne, the Darksaber in hand as she circled the Jedi, carefully examining him at a cautious distance, the collar control primed and ready in her other hand. “Just who the hell do you think you are...”

She had been content to let the Jedi come fetch their stray pet and be done with it, but now, Bo-Katan Kryze had questions that she needed answers to them. She paced back and forth before the man as he slowly strained against his bindings, his eyes blinking open and squinting against the brightness in the room and slowly dragging himself to his knees, and a flash of anger ran through Bo-Katan as she watched him. Her finger pressed the button of the remote in her hand and she grinned wickedly when the dull, hazy yellow eyes shut tight in pain as he groaned, his jaw clenched tight and his teeth grinding as the current made every muscle in his body painfully tighten. She wanted information, yes, but this Jedi killed her men, and he was in possession of a weapon that could threaten Satine’s claim to the throne of Mandalore. That he arrived here with this weapon, with the head of Qui-Gon Jinn, and looking at her sister the way he did...it was too much to be a coincidence. 

And she was owed pain equal to the worth of each of the lives he had taken here today, and so help her, she would take it from him before the Jedi came to claim him.

When the current stopped, the charges spent, the man’s head dropped to his chest, but he remained on his knees, his body swaying, but never falling over, his shoulders rising and falling in ragged panting, a tight, broken groan in his throat. When he lifted his head, his dull, hazy eyes opening to look up at the woman, Bo struck him across the face with the end of the saber’s hilt, the skin splitting open in a red, jagged gash that saw blood run into the finely trimmed beard and drip in heavy drops on the floor, a long, manic peel of laughter spilling uncontrolled from the man’s lips, and the Mandalorian took a step back to observe her captive. He couldn’t have broken so easily, and with the twinge of madness tight in his rich voice, Bo was beginning to think that this Jedi had been broken before he even got here.

“Who are you?!” she harshly demanded, grabbing the Jedi’s hair and pulling his head back and thrusting the deactivated Darksaber in front of his unfocused eyes. “Where did you get this?!” The dull yellow hues of his eyes seemed to swirl and mix together as his pupil alternately dilated and narrowed in a struggle to focus, but was ultimately unsuccessful when the man’s eyes rolled back into his head, a shiver running through his body as he began to laugh in unhinged earnest tight with mania, the rich sound eerily echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings of the throne room. Bo-Katan could feel the angry flush stain her cheeks as her frustrations rose. Forget broken, this Jedi was mad, and he was mocking her, and her already short tolerance for Jedi grew even shorter as she slammed her thumb on the remote’s button again.

The man’s body reflexively tightened with the powerful charge, his every muscle compelled to contract with the introduction of the electrical current, and through now clenched teeth, the laughter continued as if he didn’t even feel the pain, the twitch at the edge of his eye only drawing attention to the wild amusement in the muted yellow, devoid of fear or pain or anxiety that she usually saw in the prisoners unfortunate enough to fall into Bo-Katan’s care. It was almost as if he was enjoying this, as if the disconnect between his mind and body prevented him from recognizing the danger he was in, the torture he was subject to, his focus visibly sliding in and out as his attention darted about the room, and the Mandalorian had to check behind her to make certain they were alone. They were. The things the Jedi was seeing were not part of the present, not of this place and time, or simply not at all, the figments of a brain feverish with madness or cooked by the electrical current.

Before she knew what she was doing, with the anxious tension of the saber in her hand and the insane laughter grating upon her last nerve, Bo-Katan slammed her gauntleted hand down upon the man’s chest, his ribs, kicked at his stomach, his sides until he lay upon the ground, subject to the fury of the savage beating the woman saw fit to rain down upon him. Through it all, he never stopped laughing, his body never flinching, never tensing as he was struck, as if pain had simply stopped effecting him, and Bo sent another powerful current through him just so she could see his body reflexively writhe, even as her armored fists came away splattered red and the black robes he wore became wet with blood.

“Bo, stop!” The voice echoed hard and commanding across the room, and with her hand in gold hair stained red with blood as she pulled her prisoner back up to his knees, her fist cocked back and ready to slam repeatedly in to the maniacally grinning Jedi’s smug stupid face until it was a broken, bloody mess, the Mandalorian quickly looked over her shoulder to see Pre Vizsla, her omega, her mate, striding swiftly and purposefully toward her. “Bo,” he said again when he drew closer, his hands held out to her as if to calm her, like he was approaching a wild animal. “You promised Satine you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I promised no such thing!” the alpha spat, her hand in the Jedi’s hair tightening as she backhanded the restrained man, her fury rising even further at the laughter that continued to spill from his lips between wracking coughs that misted the air with blood.

“You said,” Pre continued firmly as he drew closer, “that he wouldn’t suffer.”

“And he won’t,” Bo said coldly as she looked at the dazed, grinning Jedi. “Not for long, anyway, it’ll end when I kill him.”

“You can’t kill him!” Pre hissed in warning, concern permeating the air as the dutiful omega looked between his mate and the bloody prisoner, trying to the best of his abilities to mediate the wants of both the Kryze women he swore himself to soothe and protect. “The Jedi have been contacted, Bo, they’re on their way now, they’ll be here any-” He stopped abruptly when the alpha snatched one of the lightsabers off her belt and powered it on, the sharp thrum as it burned to life in the air making Pre’s jaw drop as he stared at the black blade. He glanced quickly to his mate, a single thin brow raised as she stared impatiently at him. “Is that what I think it is?” Vizsla choked.

“It sure is,” Bo drawled, a sneer on her lips as her attention shot back to her captive, holding the blade mere inches from the Jedi’s face and watching those strange eyes struggle to focus on it. “And the little Jedi slut here won’t tell me how he got his hands on it.”

“I thought you’d remember...” her prisoner said in Mando’a, his voice smooth and accented, his intonation possessing the same regal bearing as her sister’s, almost as though Satine had taught him how to speak it herself. He was looking right at her, a sharpness in him she hadn’t seen since he’d been collared and cut from the Force, his focus less on her and more seeming to look just beyond the physical and deep within her being. “You were there,” he continued, and Bo followed his gaze as it slowly swept from her to look at Pre, and she could feel something akin to hunger seeming to burn in the air around the Jedi. “I got it from him,” he said in an amused lit. “He gave it to me after I broke him, after I ripped everything he was from him. He knelt before me, he called me Master, and he gave me the blade if only I would just make. It. Stop.”

His gaze drifted back toward the woman who stood confused, appalled and horrified above him, a wild grin on his face as blood sluggishly pulsed from the throbbing cut on his cheek. “I’m surprised you’d forget such a thing, Bo-Katan Kryze,” he said smoothly, coldly, and a chill ran up her spine as she still struggled to understand how a man who had been beaten as badly as he had been could show no signs of pain at all, how he could spout off such nonsense with such conviction that she began to doubt what she knew to be true. “I’ve found it’s an experience that isn’t soon forgotten.”

“Well shit...” Pre hissed through clenched teeth. “Alpha, I think you’re going to need to fuck the sense back into me, because he’s making me feel completely insane.”

“Funny, I was about to say I needed to stick my knot in you to help ease this kriffing headache.”

“Just who the hell is this guy?” Vizsla asked, and the Jedi began to laugh once again, sharper than before, but no less insane.

“I’m Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith,” the prisoner said, drawing up proudly despite being upon his knees and restrained. “And I am your King.”

“...I’ll hold him, Bo,” Pre said quickly. “You beat him to death.”

“Oh, my sweet omega, you do know how to turn me on...”

Pre quickly dragged Lumis up by his restrained arms and held him close and still to his chest as Bo-Katan savagely slammed her armored fists against ribs and into lean-muscled flesh of a body far too thin, bruises instantly blooming under the impact and ribs shifting as they cracked under the assault. She only stopped at Pre’s gentle urging, the omega looking at the ground where blood pooled under their prisoner, dripping off saturated robes from skin that split open when tender bruises were repeatedly struck. To his credit, this Jedi, Sith Lord, whatever never once cried out or flinched, only hung limp in Pre’s grasp as unintelligible words fell in jumbled chaos from cracked lips, half sentences and single words linked together with disjointed, unrelated things that left both Pre and Bo looking at each other with confusion, as if somehow the other could make sense of what was being said.

“Is this why you came here?” Bo demanded, her hand roughly grabbing his bearded chin and forcing him to look at her, though she was certain he couldn’t see her, the muted eyes hazier than they had been before, dazed and blank as if he had given up trying to focus at all and simply surrendered to the anarchy of his mind’s chaos. She brought her hand stinging across his face when he didn’t answer, his cheek staining her palm with blood, but it wasn’t enough to shock him back to the present. He was too far gone, his expression haunted like one who had seen the horrors of war, a look that Bo knew all too well from many of the soldiers that had returned from the multiple fronts of the Clan Wars, and she wondered if, perhaps, he had seen too much in his own time. “Answer me, Jedi, is this why you came here with this weapon?! Did you come here with the intent to rule?!”

“Yes...” Lumis slurred thickly, his voice a dazed, distant whisper. “My Mandalorian Empire, we will take this galaxy by storm, we will sweep through all who oppose us like death itself...” His shoulders shook as he chuckled madly, his darting eyes slowing to fall on Bo once again, the pallid colors almost appearing to simmer with fever. “You and I, Bo-Katan...” he said with breathless reverence. “Together, we will see entire planets burn, the oceans will boil and our enemies will die screaming...and all for her, all for Satine, my sweet Satine...” His breath hitched, his shoulders shaking as his head fell to his chest and fresh blood splattered across the ground as finally a pained, mournful whimper reverberated in his broken chest. “Satine...burn them, burn them all. I am burning, my love, and I will see them all burn with me...”

“Madness...” Pre growled in disgust, releasing the man and watching as the bloody body fell to a heap on the ground and slowly, carefully curled up, his every movement smearing more blood across the ground. “Are we certain the Jedi even want this creature?”

“I’m certain I don’t want it, and that should be enough,” Bo muttered softly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to make sense of the creature on the ground and the utter nonsense he had spewed. “He’s Force sensitive, and that makes him a Jedi problem whether they want it or not. All I know is I don’t like the way he talks about my sister.”

“He sounds like a man obsessed,” Pre quietly agreed, and a disdainful sneer crossed Bo-Katan’s face.

“He’s dangerous. Powerful and mad as all hell and a Jedi to boot.” Bo sneered and dug her toe into the man’s side, soft and squishy when it should have been hard and strong. “And this...scum acts like Satine is his. My sister deserves better than some half-crazed Jedi.”

“Oh, really.” The voice was harsh, cold, angry, and both Bo and Pre winced as they slowly turned to face the seething face of the Duchess of Mandalore, the woman changed out of the gown she wore earlier to now favor a form-fitting set of Mandalorian armor in the cobalt blue and silver-white of Clan Kryze, looking every bit the warrior as her blood splattered alpha sister. She had always been bold and strong, had to be ever since her mate left her alone and pregnant to fend for herself against her vicious people, but now that the Jedi was dead, she seemed to be brimming with a resurgence of command and confidence, freed from the small voice in the back of her mind that always wondered what would become of her should Qui-Gon return.

“Satine,” Bo said swiftly, awkwardly hiding her hands behind her back and stepping in front of the bound and bloody prisoner to shield the sight from her sister’s view. But she knew Satine saw it. She had that look. “We just-”

“Tell me then, Bo,” Satine said swiftly, ignoring the other woman and cutting her off completely. “What exactly is it that I deserve?”

Bo sighed and hung her head slightly. “...anything you wish, Duchess.”

“And presently, I wish I had a sister that wasn’t an impulsive idiot!” Satine snapped, her fingers curling around the arms of her throne. “You know the Jedi are coming for him, Bo, you said you wouldn’t allow him to suffer!”

“He isn’t suffering!” Bo said with a bitter laugh, and Satine looked deadpan at her, her eyebrow raised as if challenging her to continue trying to defend that state of the man on the ground behind her.

“Yes, because he looks the very image of perfect health and fitness, doesn’t he?” Satine drawled sarcastically, gesturing accusingly at the badly beaten prisoner. “You tell me, Bo, how are we going to explain this to the Jedi?!”

“We can throw him in a bacta tank, he’ll be good as new by tomorrow evening,” Bo said soothingly, though it only seemed to make her imperious sister more angry, and it made her glad that she hadn’t suggested they simply kill the man and tell the Jedi that the prisoner had escaped them, which was her original intent.

“Well,” Satine chirped, her arms crossing over her chest as she settled back angrily against the back of the throne. “At least you didn’t suggest that we simple kill the man that brought me the head of Qui-Gon Jinn.” She gave her sister a pointed, knowing glare, and Bo couldn’t help but curse under her breath. Somehow, Satine always knew. “And as it is, your plan would have been fantastic if the Jedi weren’t here.”

“Here?” Bo asked, her jaw falling slack. “Now? On Mandalore?”

“They landed ten minutes ago,” Satine drawled lazily, watching the questions play over her sister’s face, and she sighed. “What, did you think they would dispatch Jedi from Coruscant when one of their own is being detained by Mandalorians? It would take days to get here.” Her gaze drifted to the bloody man on the ground, and her temper spiked. “They redirected Jedi operating near Bandomeer to come fetch him. Four of them, Bo, and if one Jedi could cause so much damage, just think what four can do, so unless you have a brilliant plan on how to explain this, you had better shut up and let me do the talking.”

Bo nodded curtly, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glowered, paced before the dias on which her sister’s throne sat, and snapped for Pre to get the head of the Jedi Master out of sight, the large omega swiftly moving to obey, and the alpha stepped up to stand beside the throne, watching with her sharp eyes as Pre quickly returned from his task to stand guard over the prisoner as the far doors swung open, four hooded Jedi slowly walking beside a guard compliment. They stopped in their tracks as they drew close enough to see something was wrong, to smell the blood that hung heavy in the air, and the Jedi pulled back their hoods, their hands on their lightsabers as they slowly made to draw closer.

“Not another step closer, Jedi,” Satine said firmly as she stood from her throne, her hand swiftly drawing the blaster from its holster upon her thigh and pointing it at the Knights as they stopped, the four of them either cautiously eying her or staring at the bloody man with a look of horror on their faces. “Just because you were invited here to pick up your stray does not make you welcome on Mandalore.”

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the Jedi asked, a human beta male who seemed to be in command of this excursion. “What have you done to him?!”

“The Jedi are difficult to subdue,” Satine said calmly, the blaster never wavering in her hand. “I expect thanks for not simply ordering him killed. Our policy here in regards to your Order is well known.”

“You want us to thank you?” the Jedi gawked, his eyes drifting to where the man on the ground now began moving, strained whimpers coming from his throat at the sight of the Jedi. “For beating this man within an inch of his life?!”

“We are a passionate people, Master Jedi,” Satine scoffed, a wry smirk on her face. “I do not fault them for occasionally being...over-exuberant in their duties.”

“Please...” the man on the ground choked, his voice rough and raw and weak, his eyes wide and pleading as he stared at the Jedi as he attempted to wriggle toward them, his hands clutching the Force suppressing collar around his neck. “Help me...help me, please...”

“I cannot stand by and allow you to torture this man,” the Jedi growled, motioning for the others to follow him as they ran to retrieve the man, only to stop before Pre Vizsla, the omega snarling and angry, his blaster primed and pointed at them. “You asked us to come get him,” the Jedi snapped. “And we have come. Hand him over.”

“Stand down, Pre,” Satine quietly commanded. “The sooner they have him, the sooner they can leave.” Vizsla snarled at the Jedi, stepping closer to loom over the smaller beings before he side-stepped out of the way, allowing the Jedi to rush forward and gingerly lift the wounded man. His arms draped over their shoulders, he hung limply in their grasp as the Jedi leader quietly examined him, studied his face, asked him questions that were only answered by a litany of pleas and the exposing of his neck to draw attention to the collar locked there.

“How did you say he came to you?” the Jedi asked, his eyes narrowed as his fingers ran along the collar.

“I didn’t,” Satine said cooly, and the Jedi glared at her when she said nothing more.

“Let’s get this off of you...” the Jedi muttered in frustration, a choked, grateful sob spilling from the man’s lips as he was slowly, carefully lowered to his knees.

“No, don’t!” Bo snapped from her place beside the throne, earning herself a glare from both the Jedi and her sister. “That man is dangerous. Release him if you will, but you will not do it here in the presence of the Duchess.”

“This is torture, and I will not allow it to continue a second longer,” the Jedi said cooly, moving to stand behind the two Jedi kneeling beside the bloody man support him, his head bowed to expose the collar, and the Jedi Master grabbed hold of the locking device, using the Force to crush the mechanism, causing sparks to jump off the damaged circuits. The Mandalorian soldiers in the room quickly fell into tight formation around the throne when Bo-Katan barked a swift, harsh order to defend the Duchess, her unmoving gaze fixed upon her former prisoner as blissful relief washed over his face, his mouth hanging open as he gasped in near ecstacy, and the dull, muted yellow of his eyes swiftly seemed to catch fire as they began to blaze a vibrant, glowing gold as a sinister grin spread across his face.

There was a powerful, sudden rush of wind through the throne room, strong enough to stagger the soldiers, the gust not coming from the open doors or the parted veranda windows, but unnaturally from within the room, the air seeming to rush from all directions toward the focal point of the former prisoner like a vortex. Fr a moment that seemed like eternity, there was still silence, as if the entire room hung in anticipation, and without warning, a powerful, explosive blast emanating from the focal point of the bloody man rushed outwards with the force of a violent storm, the soldiers blown back and out of formation as they were knocked to the ground. 

The Jedi, closest to the origin of the blast, were not so fortunate, and were sent flying through the air, two of them striking the far wall with enough force to cause the marble to crack and break to fall in bloody pieces to the ground, the two Knights’ heads broken open upon the wall and dead at the moment of impact. The Master had been thrown clear across the room, striking the ground and skidding along it until he came to a stop with a groan of pain, shaking his head to clear it as he saw the other Knight flung high into the air, only to be caught in his free fall by blinding arcs of blue lightning that shot from the wounded man’s fingers. With a flick of his sparking hand, the knight went slamming to the ground, blood splattering across the floor as the body burst open upon impact, his organs made swollen by the electrical current rupturing like overripe fruit.

The Master was on his feet in a moment, his saber drawn in a flash of green as he stared down glowing golden eyes peering intently at him from a pale face drenched in blood and cold sweat, his hair in a wild state of disarray, the bloody man still upon his knees. Grinding his teeth and grasping the saber tighter, the Jedi rushed toward his opponent, his blade poised and ready to strike down this dangerous, unarmed Dark Jedi. His head was pounding, aching with the scents of pain and death and blood and darkness in the air, so focused he could feel a sharp pain just behind his eyes. When he drew close enough, nearly close enough to strike him, close enough to see the trembling in his opponent’s hand as he raised it and the steely calm that seemed to sit heavy upon him, the pain behind his eyes exploded, his vision flashing white as he found himself pitching to the floor, his saber clattering upon the ground as it fell out of his hands.

His entire body began to convulse as ice slowly seeped through his veins, chilling his blood and slicing along every muscle and bone within him as the Dark Side sunk its teeth in and held him firmly in its cruel grasp. The feeling of tight, sharp manacles closed around his wrists, and he felt himself lifted into the air, his arms spread out wide and his feet dangling so that his toes barely scraped the ground. Biting back the pain, he opened his eyes enough to look down and see the eyes of the Dark Jedi staring up at him from where he still knelt, the golden eyes blazing with a hunger that made it feel as though an empty, aching void opened in his chest. The Jedi struggled against the hands of the Dark Side that held him, each movement causing the claws sunk deep within him to tear jagged gashes that sapped his strength away.

The Sith Lord didn’t move from where he knelt, didn’t shift the focus of his gaze from his victim’s face, and slowly, the Jedi felt a cold, almost gentle hand reach deep within his chest, his fingers searching for something inside him, the caressing touches making his heart seize and his lungs fill with bitterly frigid air. He tried to struggle but found himself paralyzed in the dark grasp, the shadowed hand within him slowly beginning to close, his hand tightening around the soft warm glow within him, the light carefully collected and gathered to be held in that unrelenting, inescapable grip. The Jedi gasped when he felt the hand tighten, his heart beating so fast that it hummed in his chest and he felt the cold of death swiftly fill the void left behind as the hand withdrew, taking the warmth, the very Force within him and effortlessly pulled it from his body.

The Jedi struggled, tried to hold on to his life as he felt it swiftly fade, but the harder he struggled to grasp it from the calm, commanding hand, the weaker he felt, the easier it was drawn from him, and soon enough, the fight left him, his entire body filling with weakness and surrender, and with a pitiful whine, he fell limp in the Dark Side’s grasp, forced to accept that his life was at an end as cold and darkness closed in around him.

Lumis could feel the drunken, lazy euphoria fill him as the warmth of the Jedi’s life filled him, the Force rushing through his body as it was tasked with healing the damage he had sustained. He could feel bones mend, bloody gashes slowly close and dark bruises fade, his mind swimming with the high of the siphoned life and that familiar ravenous pull for more, the hunger that could never be satisfied aching and yawning for more as it was fed, that addiction Lumis knew must be treated judiciously, lest he fall uncontrollably into its grasp. Groaning softly in satisfaction and breathing deep the feel of the Force that rushed through him once again, he slowly rose to his feet, sneered at the feel of his robes wet and tacky with his blood as he straightened and smoothed them. 

He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it for a moment before attempting to smooth it back down, though he couldn’t quite get a handle on the disheveled mess. Brushing his hair back away from his forehead to get it out of his eyes, he sighed when unruly strands fell back into his eyes, and deciding that he was presentable enough, he turned to look at the wall of Mandalorian soldiers gathered tightly and defensively around the throne. Grinning when he found his target, Lumis reached out a hand, summoned the Force, and from her place beside the throne, Bo-Katan Kryze was pulled through the air to his waiting grasp, his hand wrapping tightly around her slender neck as the Force rendered her immobile and gasping for breath. 

Swift, sharp commands and shouts from the Mandalorians sounded muted and distant to Lumis as he stared at the proud, angry, defiant woman, and without a word, he reached out, his fingers stroking her side for a moment before he took hold of the lightsabers on her belt and one by one removed them from her grasp. Green eyes flashed with rage when he took back the Darksaber, a smug, superior smirk on his lips as his hand tightened, and Bo’s eyes widened, her face paled, her legs beginning to thrash as she struggled to break free.

The loud, sharp whine of a blaster discharging cut through the air, and Lumis could feel his hair move and his skin heat as the blaster bolt shot right past his head, grazing his cheek on its swift trajectory to strike the floor behind him. He surveyed the Mandalorians to find that they had been commanded to stand down, and his eyes slowly drifted to land on the armored form of the Duchess, the barrel of her blaster pointed right at im and still red and hot from the shot she had just fired.

“I didn’t have to miss,” Satine said in an unwaveringly calm voice, her blaster never leaving her target. “I understand you are angry for your treatment here. What my sister did was wrong, and she will answer for it, but she will answer to me, not you. Unhand her.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Nodding respectfully in his obedience, Lumis released Bo-Katan, the woman collapsing to the ground as she choked and gasped for breath, Vizsla rushing forward as Lumis stepped back, his hands raised in surrender. The omega swiftly scooped the much smaller alpha up into his arms, and his gaze never leaving the dangerous man, he retreated behind the line of soldiers to stand protectively beside the throne. They stood silent for a long while, Satine’s eyes examining the man who, only moments ago had been a bloody wreck, and while his skin was stained with bruises and dried blood, the wounds he had sustained were closing and vanishing before her eyes, that golden, adoring gaze never once leaving her as she watched him.

“Not a Jedi, then,” Satine said softly, a small, inquisitive smile on her lips as she examined the man, his gaunt, sickly thin body trembling slightly, his chest visible through tears in his robes boney and emaciated, and she couldn’t understand how a man that looked so frail and fragile could be so powerful. “My Jedi Slayer, what am I going to do with you...”

“Someone execute that man!” Bo shouted, her voice raw and hoarse, her neck bruised with the dark imprints of Lumis’ fingers as she struggled against Pre’s tight grip. The soldiers swiftly raised their weapons and lowered them again when Satine gestured for them to be at ease. Bo’s face reddened as her temper spiked. “You can’t keep him, Satine!” Bo snapped, her jaw clenched tightly as she looked between her poised, collected sister and the twitching madman. “He killed our men, he’s obviously insane!”

“He brought me Qui-Gon’s head,” she said, her tone frosty and the look in her eyes hard and cold. “He deserves our thanks, not hostility.”

“He murdered his way here!” Bo shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the Sith Lord as he dropped to his knees with a shudder, his eyes glassy and his gaze fixed upon the Duchess, something haunting and pained in the golden glow that Bo did not like. “He may kneel before you now, but that can change in an instant! A mad dog has no master!”

“The very least we can do is feed him,” Satine shot back, a finality in her tone leaving no room for argument. “No man has any business being this thin.”

“No man like him has any business living!” Bo snarled. “Put a bolt in his head and end his miserable existence! If he doesn’t belong with the Jedi, he has no place in this world!”

“Excuse me, Duchess,” a warrior said as he walked carefully into the throne room, eying the madman on the floor as he cautiously approached the throne and bowed. “We have detained someone at the port.”

“Another Jedi?” Satine asked, and the man swiftly shook his head.

“No, Duchess,” he said swiftly. “At least, I don’t believe so. He surrendered to us before he landed. Sounds like...” He pointed to the Sith Lord. “Like that might be the brother he’s missing.”

“I guess even the mad belong somewhere,” Bo said with a smirk.

“Escort him in,” Satine commanded quietly, the soldier saluting and rushing off as the Duchess sighed, a pitying expression on her face as she looked at the oblivious, enraptured man kneeling before her. For a moment, she was almost sorry that Obi-Wan’s brother had come looking for him, the gratitude she felt for the freedom he had giving her pulling within her chest and making her heart ache, though nothing she could have said or done would make him understand. He didn’t need it, she supposed. Somehow, it seemed as though he already knew, and as she looked at him, she couldn’t help but feel that somehow, the debt was already paid.

She looked up quickly when the heavy footsteps of her soldiers and their captive entered, her posture ridged when she smelled the strong, musky scent of unsuppressed alpha. With a final look at the whimpering man at her feet, she drew up and banished the softness from her expression in favor of the hard edge of command. “Is it true you are this man’s brother?” Satine asked firmly when the captive approached, a particularly large alpha with long reddish blond hair and the same golden eyes as the man at her feet, an unusual enough trait in a human that she would have believed them to be related even if their features weren’t so strikingly similar.

“Uh...” His eyes narrowed for a moment, his gaze shifting between Satine and Bo, a frown on his face as he considered the two woman before he drew up taller and nodded. “Yes, ma’am...” he said, clearing his throat before he inched forward, averting his eyes from the omega to look around the room at the dead bodies of Jedi and Mandalorians, and he shivered when he saw the withered husk of the Jedi’s whose life had been drained. Swallowing hard, he tore his gaze away and back to the Duchess. “He slipped away from me, I’ve been looking all over for him. He’s...made a mess, I see.”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been forgiven,” Satine said softly, the faint smile returning as she looked down at Lumis, the man’s shaking hand hesitantly reaching out toward her, earning him a warning grown from Bo that he did not heed. “He has done me a great service that I will not soon forget.”

“Ah...” the man said, almost seeming to fidget anxiously where he stood, chewing on his bottom lip as he looked at the warriors beside the throne, and hesitating to move closer. “You may have noticed, my brother...isn’t well. I need to get him home. Now.” His jaw clenched tightly, he lowered his head slightly. “Ma’am. Please.” His shoulders tensed, and for just a moment, Satine could practically smell the aggression on him, the warriors at her side responding to the apparent threat by raising their weapons, and she quickly raised a hand to call for calm.

“Of course,” she said quietly, the man relaxing immediately and breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “Please know he has my deepest gratitude, and he shall always be welcome on Mandalore.”

“Kind of you...” he muttered. “But we won’t be back. Come, brother.” But the man did not come, and a soft, wanting whine drew Satine’s attention to the side of her throne to see Lumis peering at her from over the top of the throne’s arm, his golden eyes wide and pleading, and at her other side, Satine could almost feel Bo’s rage rising.

“I want to stay...” Lumis whispered, and Satine reached out to run her fingers through his soft, ruffled golden hair, his forehead hot and feverish, and with a shudder, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

“You need to go home, sweet thing,” Satine whispered as she stroked the madman’s hair. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes...” Lumis drawled, his voice thick and slurred as he reveled in the feel of her. “Anything for you...” Shuddering when the Duchess’ fingers slid from his hair, Lumis reached out to gently take her hand in his as he rose to his feet, and muttering something under his breath that she didn’t hear, the man gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand, the golden eyes which had seemed so hazy, so unfocused before suddenly sharp and clear. With a small, charming smile curling his lips, Lumis turned and walked down the steps to join his relieved brother, the large alpha grabbing him by his arm and swiftly leading the compliant Sith Lord from the room.

“Good riddance,” Bo-Katan sneered, rubbing at her neck as she watched the two men leave, the taller one snapping and snarling at the calm, relaxed other, and all she could think about was the Darksaber clipped on the back of her former prisoner’s belt. “If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon...”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him again...” Satine said breathlessly, and Bo looked aghast at her sister, the Duchess’ face flushed and her eyes almost glassy with want.

“Oh no, we aren’t going down that road...” Bo growled, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at her suddenly obstinate sister. “Not a Jedi, we are done with Jedi. I don’t need to remind you about the last one.”

“The last one?” Satine asked sweetly. “You mean, the one who’s head was given to me by that man?” She scoffed softly as she sat back down in her throne, her ankle crossed over her knee and resting her cheek against her palm. “Obi-Wan...he is no Jedi.”

“Looked like a Jedi to me...” Bo growled, but her sister was not listening. No, she was swooning, and Bo thought she was going to be sick.

“He killed my dear mate and brought me his head, he’s a fine warrior to beat the men you trained, he’s a proven Jedi slayer...” Satine sighed heavily, almost wistfully. “And he’s frightfully handsome...no, I don’t think I’d mind seeing him again.”

Bo groaned loudly and slammed her hand against her forehead. This did not bode well. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worry not, dear friends, this is hardly the last we'll see of the Dutchess Kryze. I think our boy has made far too much of an impression for that, don't you?


	5. Chapter 5

“I cannot believe you!” Aestus hissed, his hand tightening around Lumis’ upper arm as he led him from Mandalore’s throne room. His large hand could close completely around the smaller man’s arm, like any musculature he had before had suddenly wasted away over the past eleven days. Aestus would have let go, but he didn’t trust Lumis not to run off and cause yet another scene.

“I shared my home with you,” he growled, his grip tightening hard enough to know it would bruise, but Lumis didn’t seem to notice, his shuffle beside him calm and even, his eyes hazy and vacant with the Dark Side high that Aestus could feel itching under his own skin. “I shared my omega with you! And how do you repay me?” Aestus sneered, his nose wrinkling at the very thought. “You disrupted my artifacts, you tore up my hallway, you left a headless body on the ground and you stole my fucking ship! I had to use a shitty ship to track you across the galaxy for eleven days!”

“Where are we going?” Lumis asked, his voice thick and slurred, and Aestus’ sharp eyes looked over the dazed Sith before he growled, his teeth grinding together. Clearly, the man hadn’t heard a thing he had said, and Aestus was stressed and anxious enough without having to deal with his stark raving mad other self. At least Lumis was being cooperative. He had come half expecting to pry the man off the Duchess he was so crazy for.

“I am taking you home,” Aestus snapped, the man beside him making a small, appreciative noise.

“Ah...where’s home?”

“I don’t know, Crazy Town on Mad Planet, how the hell should I know where you’re from?!” Aestus shouted, swiftly looking over his shoulder at the Mandalorian escort and growling in anger at the strange looks they were giving him. “This is what you get for messing with things you don’t understand!” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Fooling around with that orb has made you insane. I shouldn’t have saved you!”

“You saved me?” Lumis gasped, looking up at the taller man with a vacant, loopy grin on his face, his golden eyes unfocused and distant. “Thank you...who are you again? Do I know you?” His smile became wider when Aestus’ face turned bright red in fury. “...where are we going?”

“What is even the point of you?!” Aestus snapped, clutching the arm harder and pulling the compliant Lumis along faster. “My brainless, thoughtless, stupid fucking omega has more intelligent things to say than you!”

“Nu’sua tave’ari ir’meistras ivisa nu’ziur...” Lumis said, his voice dropping in pitch and affected with a chilling monotone that sent a shiver up Aestus’ spine. “Nu sua’wo su’tave jena'tes anas rests’kash tave’vele ivisa anas kash nazeta. Negu nun, visa anas’kash valia atsikla kash prievole.”

Aestus could feel the dull, painful throb of a building headache at the back of his mind, a sudden surge of anger and jealousy rush through him as Lumis continued to prattle on, the foreign words flowing easily off an eloquent tongue like he was born to speak it. Ancient Sith was a complex, intricate language, one Aestus had struggled to learn on his own from his many collected books and tomes, but had made little progress. To speak as well as Lumis did, he had to have a teacher, and Aestus only knew of one being in the entire galaxy who spoke it. Darth Sidious must have treasured his apprentice Lumis in a way that Aestus would never know, and it made the alpha burn, suddenly feeling inferior to this insane man that until now, despite how much stronger Lumis was, had felt his equal.

Jealousy was a foreign thing to Aestus, a feeling he did not often experience, and so lost was he in trying to banish the unpleasant feel from his gut that he didn’t feel Lumis slow down, his feet suddenly dragging as he looked around the halls, a confused expression on his face like he didn’t know where he was. Shuffling behind Aestus for a moment, his arm being roughly pulled and jolting his shoulder, Lumis gasped, a grin on his face as he suddenly remembered something long forgotten, and took off running down one of the side corridors, dragging a startled yelp out of Aestus as he was suddenly yanked after the smaller Sith.

With a panicked snarl as he heard the sound of blasters priming behind him, Aestus dug his heels into the ground, his hand tightening around Lumis’ thin wrist, and with a hard pull, yanked the Sith Lord off his feet, the man slamming hard to his knees and quickly scrambling to his feet once again. This time when he began running, Aestus was prepared, and instead of pulling the large alpha, Lumis was left running in place as he strained against the firm grasp.

“Stop this foolishness!” Aestus snapped, pulling the man toward him and sending Lumis stumbling back, the Sith Lord deterred for only a moment before he began straining against him once again. “You are going to get yourself killed!”

“Have you seen my son?” Lumis asked excitedly, panting heavily at the exertion his weakened body protested against. “He’s around here somewhere! You should meet him!”

“Silence, fool, you don’t have a son!”

“I do!” Lumis said, huffing as he stopped trying to get away and instead pried at Aestus’ fingers to no effect, his shaking legs finally giving out as he slumped to the floor and leaned against the alpha’s leg. “Satine and I...” he muttered thickly. “We made him together. You should feel him, so strong already...”

“Stand up, idiot!” Aestus snapped, pulling at the man’s arm, but Lumis was limp in his grip, refusing to stand or move at all as he was dragged along the ground. With a growl of frustration, Aestus lifted the madman off the ground and held him up by the arm, Lumis’ eyes hazy and vacant and his cheeks flushed with fever. Cursing under his breath, Aestus threw the man over his shoulder and stalked off toward the hangar, a tight grip on the fightless man as the armed escort fell in behind them.

It didn’t take long to get to the hangar on Aestus’ long stride, Lumis hanging so still and limp over his shoulder that Aestus would have thought the man asleep if not for the occasional, unintelligible mutters and soft, weary chuckling. The anger returned when Aestus caught sight of his shitty ship, the tiny, ugly transport sticking out like a squat, fat grub among the sleek Mandalorian starfighters. Sensing the sudden change in the alpha, Lumis looked under Aestus’ arm at where they were going, a frown on his face as he surveyed the upside down hangar, and after a moment, he looked up at the man, the alpha growling softly to see gold eyes peering up at him.

“Where are we going?” Lumis asked quietly, alpha’s lips curling up into a vicious snarl.

“To my shitty ship!” he barked. “Because you stole my nice ship and crashed it!”

“I have a ship...” Lumis purred, allowing his head to drop and smiling vacantly as the world was flipped upside down. “She’s called the Umbra and she’s beautiful. Fastest ship in the galaxy, probably.”

“You had a ship, and it was my ship!” Aestus snarled. “Now I have to fly this piece of shit!” Lumis’ eyes darted up to Aestus’ hand, and out to where the alpha was pointing, and frowned as he looked at the indicated transport.

“Steathipede-class transport shuttle...” Lumis said, his voice a chilling, flat monotone, and Aestus looked down at the Sith Lord, the man looking more sane than he had since their first meeting on Malastare. “Neimoidian in design.” Lumis’ nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’m not getting in that.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you wrecked my good ship!” Aestus admonished. “Now we have to use this flying trash can all the way back to-”

“My ship!” Lumis shouted, startling Aestus enough with the suddenness of it that he wasn’t prepared for the sudden thrashing of his captive, and Lumis slipped out of his grasp to land hard upon the floor. He didn’t get up, only lifted his head, his nose bleeding profusely and pointed at a large luxury liner on the other side of the hangar. “That’s the Coronet, that’s my Satine’s ship! We’ll take that! Come on, Trash Man, take me to my ship!”

“Sorry...” Aestus muttered to the armed escort as he snatched Lumis’ ankle. “He’s hungry, he gets delirious when he’s hungry...” Without another word, he dragged Lumis toward his transport, his shoulders hunched with rage as Lumis waved and brightly bid the guards a good day.

Aestus grunted as he dropped his wayward twin into the copilot’s seat of the Stealthipede. As little patience as he had for Lumis’ antics at the moment, he had even less desire to leave the unstable man unattended anywhere on his ship while he made the trip out of atmosphere and into the safety of hyperspace. The ship might have been a piece of shit, gifted to him years ago when his Master decided him ready to start running solo missions, but at the moment it was the only one he had. There would be time later to acquire something nicer, but for now his focus remained on fleeing Mandalore’s territory while its Duchess was still feeling generous enough to keep her dogs at bay. It wouldn’t do for this ship to end up like the one Lumis had taken.

The beta himself hadn’t shown much resistance since Aestus had flung him over his shoulder, but the sight of the hanger through the transparisteel pane and Aestus’ clear intention to leave the planet had brought back some of his earlier fight. “Where are we going?” He demanded, squirming in the seat and attempting to get away from Aestus’ hands as the alpha struggled to buckle him into the harness. “We can’t leave! Satine, my son—“

“We can, actually,” Aestus replied, shoving the other Sith back into the seat once again. “You see, Satine has, um.... sent us on a secret mission?”

Lumis’ eyes narrowed, skeptical, but he fell still long enough as he considered Aestus’ words for the alpha to successfully snap him into the crash harness. If they did go down in a ball of flame, at least Lumis would be abiding the appropriate safety protocols when they hit the ground. “I don’t remember Satine saying anything about a mission.”

Aestus took a step back, and when Lumis didn’t attempt to free himself from the harness, dropped into the captain’s chair to begin preparing the ship’s systems for takeoff. “That’s because you were too busy staring soulfully into her eyes,” Aestus assured him as he lifted the ungainly ship from the landing pad. “You’re lucky I was there, or you probably would have made a fool of yourself and failed.”

For a long moment there was silence in the cockpit, Lumis deciding how to respond, before settling on, “They are beautiful eyes.”

The alpha snorted with disdain. “Yeah, whatever. Just shut up while I get us the hell out of here.”

To Aestus’ surprise, Lumis obediently fell silent while the alpha negotiated a route out of atmosphere with Mandalore’s air patrol. Judging by the dreamy look on his face, he was undoubtedly thinking of the omega bitch they’d left behind in the royal palace. It turned Aestus’ stomach that as powerful a Sith as his brother would allow himself such a glaring weakness. That he would tie himself so tightly to the omega that he had risked the both of their lives to see. An omega who was not the same woman that Lumis professed to love, and who would strike the both of them down herself without a second thought if she found them to be a threat to her position or her people.

Aestus had Anakin, yes, but that could hardly be considered attachment when compared to Lumis’ undying devotion to the Kryze omega. Skywalker was a means to an end that he had simply taken too far; an accident that he wouldn’t let control his larger plans. He could leave Anakin behind if he needed to, as he had the Jedi Order, and the Light Side, and his very identity when he had become his Master’s pupil. Sometimes it seemed there was nothing he could not forsake, if it came down to it. Aestus had decided, at thirteen years old, that he would survive. He would not let himself be thrown away like garbage again.

“Just what is our mission?” Lumis finally asked, watching through the transparisteel as the   
skies of Mandalore faded into the endless black of open space. It was a weight off Aestus’ shoulders to punch Mustafar’s coordinates into the navicomputer, to feel the ship lurch uncomfortably into hyperspace and watch stars pass in streaks of light. They were safely away from the threat of Mandalore; now all he had to worry about was how angry Sidious would be about his extended absence and apparent failure of his mission to retrieve the rogue Darksider.

“We’re going back to Mustafar to lay low for a while,” Aestus said, unhooking himself from his own harness and rising from the captain’s chair. The Stealthipede, however ugly, was reliable enough that he felt comfortable leaving the cockpit unmanned for a short while during the journey. He needed to vent the stress of the day, and he wouldn’t risk bringing his omega so close to the flight controls. Skywalker had proven himself crafty in their early days together, and was renown for his piloting skills. It was best not to tempt fate, as the wrong button could send them careening into the orbit of a sun. “The Jedi aren’t going to be happy about what happened.”

Lumis scoffed, fumbling to release his own harness. “The Jedi? What does my Satine care for the opinions of the Jedi?”

“She doesn’t care, I’m sure,” the alpha sighed, undoing the clasps for him when he failed to muster the coordination to do it himseld, “but you killed four of them, and they would certainly try to arrest us both if we were there when they came to retrieve the bodies. She wouldn’t let them take you, and Mandalore isn’t looking for open war with the Republic. Easier for us to be gone already.”

“Of course she wouldn’t let them take me,” the other Sith proudly crowed, following Aestus out of the cockpit and down the narrow hall toward the cabin. “My Satine loves me.”

“Maybe so, but she doesn’t love me, and I would rather not risk her throwing my ass to the Jedi in your place.”

The sight that awaited him when the door to the cabin slid open was like coming home, if home were cramped living quarters and a shitty double bunk set into the wall. No, what really mattered was what lay atop the bunk: Anakin Skywalker, muzzled and chained, staring at them through bleary eyes as he slowly dragged himself from sleep. He hadn’t so much as budged from where Aestus had left him, it seemed, taking the alpha’s time away to catch up on undoubtedly much needed rest. Aestus had kept his mate busy as they neared their destination, venting his anxieties over the upcoming confrontation with the Mandalorian people onto the omega’s body. He wasn’t prepared to die, but neither was he prepared to leave his stupid, newfound brother to the mercies of Mandalore—especially when it was well known that there were no mercies to be had.

“You look like shit,” Aestus sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Lumis as he made his way into the cabin. The beta, already thin upon his arrival to this universe, had dropped weight in the time they spent searching for his way home. The additional days in hyperspace and in the Duchess’ custody had not done him any favors. He was nearly skin and bones now, his skin having taken on an even greater pallor than it had before. His hair, usually meticulously groomed, now fell in disarray over his forehead and into his eyes. This was to say nothing of his robes, battered and torn from the treatment he had received at the hands of the Kryze omega’s guards. Aestus had no doubt that it was painful, though with only the state of his robes to go by, the beta healed through the same dark power he had demonstrated on Mustafar by the time he arrived, he could never know the full extent of the damage. “You look like some creditless vagrant.”

He had expected Lumis to reply to his comment, or at least take some kind of offense to the insult, but there was only silence from behind him as Aestus began to rustle through his travel bag for something the other man could feasibly wear without further emphasizing just how thin he’d become. Perhaps Lumis was simply still too lost in his own mind to maintain the vanity he had demonstrated in their earlier time together, or maybe he couldn’t be bothered to give Aestus the satisfaction of a response. Either way, it was rather disheartening. “Everything I have is going to be huge on you. That bitch could have at least fed you while you were—”

From the corner of his eye he caught only a flash of movement, the dark side turning to fire around him from one moment to the next, before the screaming started. Aestus whirled around, dropping the clothes in his hand, frozen as he took in the scene.

Perhaps in hindsight he should have thought twice about bringing Lumis into the same room as Anakin. His initial reaction to the boy had, after all, been a hostile one, and it had taken time for the man to settle from his constant discomfort around the omega. In the moment, however, all he had thought about was the damage the beta could do if left unattended in the cockpit for any period of time. Far too many buttons to press that could send them careening out of hyperspace, or Force forbid he changed their course and directed them back to Mandalore.

But then, being shot from the sky by the Mandalorian air patrol almost seemed the better option as he watched Lumis kneel atop Anakin’s chest, a vicious snarl on his face as a knife he’d produced seemingly from thin air carved into the flesh of Anakin’s face. The omega flailed in protest of the treatment, shrieking through the muzzle over his mouth and clawing ineffectively at Lumis’ chest and shoulders. It did nothing to deter the crazed beta, the obsidian blade drawing blood as he continued his work.

A particularly sharp howl from omega brought Aestus back to his senses, lunging for Lumis in attempt to get him off his victim. Grabbing hold of the back of the man’s robes, he dragged the man backwards, upsetting his balance and sending him flailing as he was pulled off the bunk.

Suddenly, pain seared across Aestus’ face, his chest, as Lumis spun and struck blindly out with the knife, his wild swing catching the alpha just under the eye and tearing downward across his cheek and jaw. The angle of his head spared his neck the worst of the damage, but he could tell that his collar and chest had not been so lucky, cutting cleanly through flesh and scraping against bone. If he had the time to consider it, he might have been surprised at how easily such an old weapon had wounded him. The blade had appeared almost dull at first glance, and Lumis seemed to have been applying quite a bit of force when he carved into Anakin’s skin, yet it had met no resistance beyond the unyielding bone when turned on Aestus.

But between the shock and the pain, his own fear and Anakin’s thundering in his chest, Aestus had no time to consider such things. Instead he lashed out as Lumis drew his hand back to swing again, a rush of the Force propelling his wild-eyed mirror from the small cabin and out into the hall. Lumis struck the far wall hard, sliding limply to the ground when the impact stunned him momentarily. The knife had gone with him, slipping from limp fingers in momentum and sliding across the floor just out of reach.

Aestus wasted no time reveling in this small victory, as he had little time to waste. While the knife had somehow avoided his major arteries, the wound it left behind was still deep and long. He could feel himself growing weaker with every beat of his heart, blood seeping down his face and neck, sinking into his robes. Its iron scent clogged his nose as he limped into the hall despite the screaming protests of his body. Lumis, having come to his senses, was busy trying to drag himself across the floor to where the knife lay, and Aestus was not about to let the man arm himself again.

Lumis had just grabbed hold of the weapon, fingers curling around the obsidian blade, when Aestus kicked it from his grip. The sharp edges cut into Lumis’ palm as it went, spattering a trail of fresh blood across the floor. The other Sith froze, staring dazely after it as the Force contracted and twisted around them in a sensation that ran like a chill up Aestus’ spine. He couldn’t tell what it was, what had happened or what had caused it, but Lumis’ reaction to it was an opportunity too good to waste.

Grabbing the now unresistant beta by the collar, Aestus dragged the man to the entrance of the cargo hold. Blood-slick hands were unhelpful in keying open the hold, and it took several tries before the door slid open and he could toss the man inside. There were enough provisions there for him to stay for the remainder of their journey, if need be. He would be fine there, and out of the way while Aestus dealt with more important matters.

The effort of dragging Lumis’ weight had taken its toll, however, and Aestus could feel his legs trembling beneath him as the door to the hold slid shut once again. He was losing too much blood, too fast, and he wasn’t the only one. Through the bond, he could feel Anakin’s pain and his fear as the omega suffered his own injury alone. There hadn’t been time to gauge the severity of the boy’s wounds during his grapple with Lumis, but he knew that his twin had gone for the face. He could have cut into something important, or damaged the boy’s eye, and the omega still lay chained to the bed, unable to reach the medical kit tucked away in Aestus’ bag.

That thought had him moving, leaning heavily against the wall for support and leaving a trail of blood and gore in his wake. If anyone was going to kill Anakin Skywalker, it was going to be him, and he wasn’t done with the boy yet. Qui-Gon Jinn was dead earlier than he intended, and Skywalker was young; he had years yet to take the vengeance he couldn’t complete out on the omega’s body.

Stumbling into the cabin, he was greeted with the sounds of Anakin’s pained whining. The omega had managed to get up to his knees, despite the very short leash he was on, and was pressing the edge of their bedding against the gash Lumis had carved into his face. The thin sheets were very quickly soaking through with the boy’s blood, its metallic mingling with Anakin’s distress and fueling the urge beneath his skin to make the omega’s pain stop. No matter what he told himself, Anakin Skywalker was his mate. They were bonded, and as alpha, it was his responsibility to see to the boy’s welfare.

“Master…” Anakin whined as Aestus dug through his bag to find their small medkit. Their resources were limited, but he would make it work. He had to. “You’re hurt.”

“Silence,” Aestus snapped, dropping onto the bed beside Skywalker. He didn’t think he had the strength left to stand anymore, and he could feel how badly his hands were shaking. “And hold still.”

Peeling the bloodsoaked fabric away from Anakin’s face, Aestus quickly began unwrapping their limited supply of bacta patches and and applying them to the boy’s face. It wasn’t pretty or neat by any means, considering his haste, but he could feel exhaustion and the shock of blood loss setting in, was aware of his vision beginning to blur around its edges. It was unlikely he would remain conscious much longer.

Somehow, much to his relief, Anakin’s eye had avoided any severe damage. He didn’t have the resources to care for that, but the bacta patches and layers of gauze applied to his forehead and cheekbone would stabilize the wound for now. Would stop the bleeding and keep infection at bay until he could get them somewhere to—

Until he could—

Aestus was vaguely aware of Anakin’s panicked whining and he tipped over onto the mattress at the omega’s side, but there was nothing to be done for it, the last of his strength giving out as the dark of unconscious claimed him.

  
  


Awareness returned to Lumis in chaotic bursts of color and light, indistinguishable shapes blurring together and filling his senses with the screams of a thousand voices and the roiling wrath of the Dark Side. Everything hurt with the searing burns of the inferno within his mind that set the very Force alight with the flames that drove him into the clutch of madness, and Lumis nearly surrendered to it, gave himself over to the Dark Side so that he could be free of the pain. It was easier that way, to allow oblivion to overtake him, to feel the sharpened claws of the Dark Side pierce through him and wildly run him toward blissful insanity, disconnecting him from the memories that tore the very heart from him and left behind an aching void that would slowly bleed him dry.

And still, he fought.

There was something in the back of his mind, something powerful and foreign, a tether of blinding light that shone bright even through the fires of his madness and anchored him to reality, and when insanity called him, Lumis fought against it. The Dark Side howled against him, turning to sharp ice within his veins that sliced at muscle and bone and sent agony raging through every nerve within him, but still, Lumis clutched tightly to the chain that held him and slowly followed it toward its source through the wrathful dark. 

With each step he took, he felt more grounded, could feel sensation returning to his limbs as he was drawn slowly back into reality, the claws of the Dark Side scraping against him as they failed to take hold within him as he regained control, the beast howling in protest as the Sith Lord slowly began to wrap the chains around the dark and bind it to his will. More than once he slipped, control sliding from his fingers as he slipped back into madness and flames that promised to burn reality and memory away, but Lumis always caught himself before he was too far gone, could feel himself struggling and writhing against a cold, hard floor when before there had only been nothingness.

As Lumis followed the chains that bound him, he passed through memories blacked with ash and unrecognizably burned, charred husks and wispy shadows lost to him when the flames of madness tore through him like a storm. As far as he could see lay the ravages of the time lost to him, a length of time he did not know nor could even begin to guess, though judging by how far it stretched, he had been lost for some time, longer than he had been even after the deaths of Satine and his son when his insanity truly began. Whatever it had been that had caused the Dark Side to spark the flames of madness inside him to blistering heights hot enough to score his memory to nothing had been buried under the ash and forgotten, and when Lumis reached back to touch at it, flames licked at his fingers and burned his hand, a warning of the madness that awaited were he to push past and remember.

The images of his mind cleared as he followed the bond that tugged at him, carefully taking the chains and wrapping them around the dark beast within him to subdue it, calm and collected and in control once again despite the howling, wrathful protests of the Dark Side as it failed to writhe away from the Sith Lord that claimed mastery over it. He could see the Clone Wars raging, the hated face of Anakin Skywalker, his counterpart in the light, his Satine as she lay dying in his arms, the face of Maul as he realized the mistake he had made in taking her from him, the entire planet of Ord Mantel burning in a sea of fire as the trapped, stranded people screamed as flames consumed them. And then...

Lumis’ breath hitched, his body wracked with sudden pain as he grabbed tighter to the tether, his memories sharpening the closer he held it. Things had changed then. He had crashed on Malastare, the chaos of the Clone Wars suddenly vanished as if it had never happened, the Dark Side felt distant and difficult to grasp in the presence of the light, the world a very different one from his own. Where people were somehow more primitive, slaves to instinct in a way that his humans were not, each of them born with a weakness a higher mind could easily exploit. Out of the shadows of his memory, through the smoke and ash were the faces of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.

Naked and kneeling before him, their faces bloody and scarred, the chains Lumis held were attached to thick collars circling their necks, the origin of what had pulled him out of the fog of madness, and Lumis drew slowly closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the two. Obi-Wan, a bigger man than he ever was, his hair more auburn than his own gold, a man he slowly remembered not to have been him at all, but one called Aestus. His reflection in another world, his other self in a galaxy devoid of sense. And beside him, small and thin and weak, a pitiful shadow of the Anakin Skywalker that Lumis had fought during the war, the child that had replaced him and started him on his dark journey to the Sith. Not a threat to Lumis in any way, just a slave playing at being a Jedi made a slave once again by the Sith.

He remembered Aestus, wild and untamed and boasting himself as an alpha, as if such animal pack mentality was something to be revered. He remembered Anakin, small and cowed and used as little more than a hole to fuck. He remembered Qui-Gon, desperate in his search for his missing Padawan, and then...nothing. Everything after that was a blur, hot and painful to the touch and locked away behind a barrier where only madness walked, a place Lumis was not willing to venture again. If he was to learn what had transpired in the time he had forgotten, the Force would find a way to bring it back to him, but he would not go looking for it, not when insanity awaited him.

Lumis breathed deeply, feeling the cold floor he laid upon and the sharp ache of pain creeping through his body, his eyes slowly opening and adjusting to the dim service lighting of the room he lay within. It was small and sparse, a cargo hold of some kind, the vibrations in the floor thrumming from the nearby engines and the low hum penetrating the air indicative of the active hyperdrive. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there, but he was certain that he had never known this ship, and given his choice, wouldn’t have been caught dead in such a grungy, dirty piece of junk, his own ship boasting an elegance that extended even into its neatly organized and carefully clean engine compartments. Unlike this ship, which was stacked with boxes and crates covered in dust and rust, the entire area both overused and forgotten, like it hadn’t been long past retirement.

Attempting to sit up was met with immediate failure as pain shot through him, and with a groan, Lumis collapsed back on to the floor, his head throbbing as cold blades sliced gashes into the very heart of him through the tension in the Force. Grinding his teeth against the objections of his body, Lumis raised his shaking hands before him and hissed when he saw his fingers tacky and stained with blood. Across his palms were long, deep cuts, one already scarred over while the other was still open and bleeding, and he had no recollection of receiving either wound. If he could have one injury he did not remember sustaining, he could have others that could explain the pain he felt, and he gingerly set to searching for additional wounds, carefully removing his robes to get a better look at himself. 

A wave of nausea and disgust washed over him as he looked at himself, his body gaunt and skeletal like he had simply wasted away in his madness, and he could feel his stomach twisting into painful knots with hunger, and Lumis curled up around himself in an attempt to quell the pain. Reaching into the Force, Lumis could feel the Dark Side rush to fill him, turning pain into strength and with a sigh of relief, he slowly rose to his feet, the sharp pain of before now a dull ache pulsing in slow waves through him. 

Sneering at the protruding bones under too thin skin, Lumis slowly ran his fingers over every inch of him in his search for injuries, and while he found nothing new, no open bloody wounds to account for the pain he felt, he did find several new scars upon his skin, deep burns from blaster bolts and jagged scars where he had been torn open. He could feel uneven ridges in his ribs where bone had broken and healed, some which were old, but many which felt new and raw, still tender from very recent and very quick healing. In the time he had forgotten, Lumis knew he must have drained the life out of at least one person in order for such quick healing of such serious wounds to occur, but he couldn’t remember who or when or how many. What he did know was that beyond the open gash on his palm, he was not injured, though he somehow knew that the blood on his hands was not only his.

Aestus and Anakin were hurt, of this he was certain, though Lumis was uncertain how he knew, or why his gut was twisting with concern, why he even cared at all, or why he felt compelled to help them. Any injury to Anakin Skywalker should have been met with elation and the satisfaction that his long-time rival hand been wounded, but Lumis found himself staggering out of the cargo hold, his hand clutching at the wall for support in his attempt to find the pair. The walls and floor of the cramped ship were covered in the same grime on the walls in the cargo hold, and several of the lights along the ceiling were flickering or out completely, though even in the poor lighting, Lumis could see blood smeared in thick lines and pools across the floor and walls, the fumbling trail leading to the closed door of a cabin just up ahead. 

Before he could stop himself and wonder why, Lumis was shuffling toward the door.

He could feel them clearly now that he knew to look for them in the turbulence of the Force, one faint, faded presence, the other bright and erratic and afraid enough to twist and turn the Dark Side into a hungry beast ready to feed upon the unprotected soul that had unknowingly ventured into its grasp. Pain radiated through both of them, amplified by feeding off the other and strong enough to claw at Lumis as well. They were injured, and they were suffering, and while Lumis didn’t know how or why they had come to be so badly wounded, he did know he needed to help them, though he couldn’t truly explain why. His one attempt to turn away, to head toward the cockpit instead had resulted in the burning sensation of madness creeping slowly along the edge of his mind, and he swiftly grabbed hold of the chain that grounded him, and all he could think about was helping Aestus and Anakin. If that was the price of his sanity, he would gladly pay it. Losing himself again wasn’t worth it.

The door was easy enough to open, a quick wave of his hand before the locking mechanism causing the lock to snap and hiss as it disengaged, allowing the door to swiftly slide open, and Lumis peered inside, the stench of blood filling his senses as he quickly looked over the mess of bloody sheets in the small cabin. Aestus lay upon the bunk, his broad, bare chest rising and falling with shallow, labored breaths, his eyes open but sightless with unconsciousness and deep, bleeding gashes cut into skin and muscle. Bandages had been haphazardly wrapped around him, a poor, unskilled attempt to treat wounds that needed far more than the basic care available.

Hiding behind the large, bloody body was Anakin Skywalker, the shivering, whimpering boy paralyzed in fear as he stared at Lumis, blood-smeared bandages wrapped around his head and one of his blue eyes and the rough cage of a muzzle covering his mouth like some kind of animal. The boy shrank back further as if to hide when Lumis’ gaze fixed upon him, a desperate, keening whimper in his throat that was equal parts fear and desperation as he clawed at the bundled sheets upon the bed and pulled himself up.

“Please...” Anakin whined, his voice raw and hoarse, like the words were foreign and unfamiliar to him. “Help him. Please.”

It was the only invitation Lumis needed, the Sith Lord swiftly stepping inside and peeling away the hastily applied bandages covering messy smears of bacta and blood, the long gashes healing poorly, if at all, the edges of torn skin turning dark with infection. Hissing in concentration, Lumis gently ran his fingers around the edges of the wounds, the tender area hot to the touch while the unwounded skin was pale and clammy and cold. His eyes swiftly flicked around the room to the emergency medpack in the corner, the bag torn open and the packaging of used supplies tossed carelessly upon the floor. The man would be dead soon, and there was no medical supplies left to extend his life long enough to find help. The nearest hospital could be hours away for all he knew, and even if one was close, they may not be able to save him.

“How did this happen?” Lumis asked Anakin, and the boy simply whined and drew away, never taking his eye off the Sith as he retreated to the room’s furthest corner. “His injuries are severe, far beyond my ability to treat,” Lumis calmly explained to the whimpering boy, the keening, constant sound only growing louder as he shook. “The Jedi have the ability to use the Force to heal,” Lumis muttered, more to himself than to the frightened boy. “I have never learned the skill, despite my many attempts to do so. The skill eludes me.” Lumis sighed, his sharp eyes looking over the deep cuts in Aestus’ thick muscle, Anakin’s pained and frightened whining piercing through his senses. “But I can try.”

Another soft, whimpered plea for help slipped from Anakin’s lips, and Lumis closed his eyes, his hands held over the deepest gash on Aestus’ chest as he felt the thrum of power beneath his fingers as the Force rushed to him, cold, raw strength of the Dark Side summoned easily to him through the pain and fear that permeated the air. It rushed through Lumis’ veins like ice, frigid as the touch of the Dark Side always was, and he could feel his own power building as it fed off the weakened, dying presence before him, the beast howling conquest with the thirst for death and the sight of easy prey, a taker of life, not a giver of one, as Lumis knew his touch to be.

Eyes shut tight, his teeth ground together as he focused to bring the Force to heel and willed it to do what it could never do in his hands, his own heart beating rapidly with anger and unsettling need in his struggle to save this man he had only just met but somehow knew so well. But the Force always turned cold at his touch, hungrily drawing warmth to him in selfish need, as was the way of the Dark Side and the Sith Lords that commanded it. As always, Darth Lumis could take life, could use it to heal himself, but healing others had always remained beyond him.

Beneath his fingers, he could feel the Force itself vibrating with power, and before he could understand what was happening, Lumis felt warmth spreading through his hands, like they had been dipped in warm water and caressed with the gentle breeze of spring instead of the biting winds of winter he had come to know so well. Eyes flying open, Lumis watched with slack-jawed fascination as the bloody gash beneath his palm slowly began to close, the skin drawing together and mending in a pale, raised scar, an ugly thing, to be certain, but it was an ugly thing that did not bleed and was not colored with festering infection.

Lumis moved quickly to the next wound, and the next after that, hardly daring to breathe lest he disrupt the sudden miraculous powers he had stepped into, lest the Force remember that this power was not his to wield, but it never left him. He could feel Aestus’ weakened presence grow steadily stronger as he was slowly revitalized, his ragged breaths becoming deep and even to replace the sickly rattle of before. When the man was healed, every wound closed and healed, Lumis could feel the thrum of power dissipate, and he looked at his hands in mute fascination, his own bleeding gash upon his palm healed as well into a deep scar. Lumis was uncertain he could believe that he had done this, even though he had seen himself do it, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he was somehow still clutched in the jaws of madness.

The nervous rustling from the far corner drew Lumis back to the moment, his eyes swiftly darting over to scared, unsettled Anakin, and the Sith Lord considered the pitiful creature for a moment, the blinding rage he felt for Skywalker rising up within him, though the desire to kill him was strangely absent. The image of his own Anakin burning in his mind, the arrogant, insufferable Jedi older, stronger, so different from the creature before him now, and for this younger boy, this Jedi who never was, this human treated like an animal, Lumis couldn’t find it in him to hate him.

“Come here, Anakin,” Lumis quietly commanded, his hand extended to beacon him closer, and the shaking boy grew still, his body tensing for a moment before he hunkered down in his corner. A twitch of irritation tugged at Lumis’ lips as he looked at the defiant boy, and without asking again, Lumis beaconed him near once again, the Force rushing this time to do his bidding and dragging the yelping boy from his corner to stand before him. Looking the fearful boy over, Lumis carefully reached behind Anakin’s head, the boy wincing as he did so, and unfastened the coarse straps of the muzzle, allowing the heavy metal cage to drop to the ground.

Without warning, Anakin turned and snapped at Lumis’ hand, the Sith Lord’s quick reflexes drawing his hand away from the wild boy’s bite, and with a flash of anger rushing through him, Lumis backhanded Anakin across the face, the hard impact sending the yelping boy to the ground, his bandages swiftly turning red and wet with blood from the wound that had reopened. Anakin whimpered in pain and panic as he swiftly scrambled back to his corner, shaking as he looked into hard, hateful golden eyes and too frightened to look away. Sneering in disgust at the creature before him, Lumis drew up tall, a quick step bringing him to loom above the shaking Anakin as he began to sob.

“If I see you outside of this room, I will make you feel such agony that you will still feel pain even after your spirit rejoins the Force,” Lumis said quietly, his tone chilling and soft and even. “Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Anakin didn’t answer, only vigorously nodded his understanding as blood dripped down his chin, and with a final look of disgust, Lumis strode from the room, looking at his hand and the healed wounds upon it as the door closed and sealed shut behind him.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The holonet broadcast flickered over the center console, the sound broken with bursts of static and frequent drops in the connection thanks to the old and unkempt state of the ship. Lumis sighed heavily, brushing loose strands of hair away from his face as he sat back on his heels to observe his work. On every inch of the floors and walls of the cockpit and the connecting hallway beyond was writing, script in ancient Sith in neat and ordered lists, graphs and flowcharts and drawings all etched into the metal. To anyone, it was random and nonsensical, a jumble of chaotic scrawl tossed in permanent disarray across the ship, but to Darth Lumis, it all made perfect sense, the timeline of the future scratched into the ship with a bloody knife that he had found in the hallway, an ancient artifact that lay dormant with dark power that served at the moment as a fine pen.

Here, upon the walls of the cockpit and stretching far back toward the cargo hold where he was previously detained, was the Clone Wars, from their start on Geonosis to the last moment Lumis remembered from the world he had journeyed from, three years in and close to its conclusion. He detailed the battles, both major and minor, listed the key players and how they came to be at that point, the politics, the economics, everything he could remember, every movement and manipulation employed to move the pieces into place. And behind it all was Darth Sidious, connecting them all and moving precisely as he wished, when he wished it, not a thing out of place, not a moment unplanned, not an outcome unforeseen.

But the Clone Wars hadn’t happened yet, the pieces still being placed before the game was played, and Lumis already knew how the war would play out years before it began, the gift of perfect foresight having been given to him as recompense for being so suddenly and cruelly taken from his own world and dropped in the middle of this madness. The only question remaining to him was where exactly in the past he had been dropped. The ages of Aestus and Anakin gave Lumis a general idea of where they were in the timeline of the Sith Imperative, and the holonet news had filled in the rest of the gaps. Four years and two months approximately until the start of the Clone Wars, still in the formative stages of Sidious’ plans, a time Lumis knew well, because he had been instrumental to many of them.

At this time in his own world, he had already completed his trials on Mygeeto, Edonaaris, and Kursid, had studied the finer points of the Dark Side, had learned to masterfully wield the formidable manipulation that his talent for mind control afforded him, had learned the fine art of suggestion and misdirection from Sidious himself as his most promising protégé, much to the consternation of the aging Lord Tyranus. Under the guise of the Negotiator, Lumis had quietly assisted his Master in setting the stage for war, and in doing so, had become intimately familiar with the finer points of Sidious’ plan.

He couldn’t help but wonder how things were different with Aestus, as this Sidious clearly hadn’t taken half the time and care that Lumis received to train the man, leaving him instead as a blunt, brutal instrument instead of the sharply honed blade Lumis had been forged into. Had Aestus undergone the same training as he had, only to fail? Had Sidious seen weakness in his proud declaration of alpha as Lumis had? Or had Sidious been in error, failed to see the potential of a young man who had come too early into his apprenticeship, the skills needed for true mastery left to erode when the Jedi had cast him out. Or, more distressing, did Sidious know all too well what Aestus could become and chose to allow his talents to atrophy in order to keep him from ever truly being a rival to the Master? Lumis couldn’t help but wonder what his Sidious would think of this one, if he would be appalled by the waste, or applaud him for it, knowing how dangerous Lumis had become.

Lumis frowned as he stood and paced back and forth from fore to aft of the ship, his sharp eyes roving over his etchings that covered the walls and floors, a chaotic jumble of notes linked by lines and arrows into a tangled web of information. This was the trouble with Sidious. Plots within plots, contingencies for every outcome, machinations so complicated that his subtle movements were entirely untraceable, and even should something fail, nobody could ever untangle the knot enough to discover that he was the architect. Looking at it now laid out before him, Lumis couldn’t help but admire the genius beauty of it.

An irritated sneer crossed his lips when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye accompanying the soft patter of bare feet, and he looked sharply down the hall just in time to see a thin figure dart from the single bunk into the bathroom just across the hall. Lumis didn’t see much of his hosts after he had issued that warning to stay out of his sight, though on two occasions he had to bang on the door and shout for the fussy Aestus to shut the hell up, and periodically caught sight of Anakin darting to the refresher. Just another reminder that he needed a bigger ship, as if the barely working comm station, the cramped, derelict quarters, and the fact that he had run out of writing space on the walls wasn’t reason enough to long for a ship like the Umbra.

Little Anakin darting back into his shared room with Aestus was enough to serve as a reminder that Lumis was very, very far from home, away from a world where Skywalker stood opposed to him in the Force, a bastion of light that hunted him across the galaxy, where Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost haunted the lonely road he walked upon, where his Satine and his son had died in his arms because he was too late and too weak to save them. Instead, he found himself in a world that made no sense, a near perfect reflection of his own world altered slightly by a trick of biology, a world where fool notions of animal barbarism in the forms of alphas and omegas dominated humanity, and in this, Lumis was alone. The only true human among billions of dog people, an entire species practically made to be domesticated into service to their betters. 

And despite this, Lumis would have rather been home, surrounded by the ghosts of his losses and the literal ghost of his former Jedi Master, back in the service of Darth Sidious who he knew meant to soon replace him, though he was not yet strong enough to kill his clever Master. Back in the chaos of war, where he had burned planets and rampaged across the galaxy because the pain of losing his wife, his son, and his future had rendered him half-mad and sleepless. He would take it all and be grateful for it if only it meant he could be gone from this world, where his other self was a mindless brute made weak from a lack of discipline and frightened of the Dark Side, where humanity was a strange, foreign species to him.

But he couldn’t return. Lumis remembered that much.

With a growl of irritation as he looked around at his meager surroundings, Lumis dropped into the pilot’s seat and swiftly pulled them out of hyperspace, the ship lurching forward and rattling as the stars ceased to blur and become distant pinpoints against the black of space. He swiftly charted a new course to a spaceport he had frequented often before the war, a large hub of activity frequented by beings ranging from smugglers to pirates to dignitaries to the vastly wealthy on their way to the nearby gambling planet of Cantonica. For all he had lost, Lumis had been given a gift, but before he could set his plans into motion, he needed a new ship.

For all his foresight and careful machinations, Darth Sidious could never predict Darth Lumis to arrive at his doorstep, and it was due time to pay the Master a call. But first, a ship and he knew just which port to choose.   
  


* * *

 

Lumis jumped from the pilot’s seat before the ship even set down upon the docks at Cantonica, not bothering to run any of the standard landing checks beyond slamming on the button to deploy the boarding ramp. None of that mattered anyway, since he wouldn’t be flying this junk ship again, so if the engines fried, it mattered nothing to him, since it was little more than scrap anyway, worth less than the space it occupied. Patting himself down quickly as he strode from the cockpit, Lumis checked to be certain he had all his lightsabers present and accounted for, his old Jedi saber, his corrupted Sith blade, the Darksaber, and the inexplicable fourth blade he recognized as Qui-Gon’s, each one secured to his belt.

Nodding in satisfaction at the feel of the weapons on his hip, Lumis walked swiftly down the hall toward the door leading down to the boarding ramp, the sliding doors irritatingly hissing and shuddering but budging very little when the button was pressed. He tried once again, his eyes critically examining the numerous dents, the rusted tracks, the splattering of blood across the worn metal, and when the door failed to open as commanded, Lumis rolled his eyes and extended his hand, his fingers splaying as the gathered Force energy exploded outwards and tore the doors from their tracks. The ruined sheets of cheaply crafted metal went clanging down the ramp, showering sparks behind them as they skidded across the dock, and smoothing his hair back and breathing deep of the fresh air, Lumis started down the ramp.

He stopped the moment his boot touched the ramp, a lingering irritation at the back of his mind gnawing at him and making him feel as though he had forgotten something important, something vital to him that he simply could not recall. He was still for a long moment, looking out at the sunlight upon the ground but unwilling to move from the spot, and he slowly turned to look over his shoulder as his forgotten responsibility returned to him. Aestus and Anakin. Aestus and Anakin were still on the ship, holed away in the room he had restricted the injured men to. Lumis sneered, scoffing as he slowly walked down the ramp, uncertain why he had cared at all. They were nothing to him, weak and injured beings to be left behind now that he had greater propose, now that he was dedicated to Sidious’ death, and while the chance of success was slim, it was still there, but it wouldn’t be for long. The longer he took, the longer he spent in this world, the more likely it was that Sidious would discover him, and were that to happen, the only advantage Lumis possessed would be lost. In the light of that, Aestus and Anakin were nothing.

Lumis found himself stomping back up the ramp before he knew what he was doing.

He couldn’t bring them, of course. They were injured and would only slow him down, and neither of them were in any state to be seen among the elite Lumis intended to mingle with. To secure the finest ship, he needed to find those with the finest tastes, and with pitiful Anakin and bloody Aestus in tow, he was more likely to get scorned and turned away. But the very least he could do was tell the pair to sit tight and wait in the ship. It may not have been secure, or even safe, given his damage to the doors, but it wouldn’t do to have them wandering about the busy port and getting lost. It would make retrieving them a nightmarish waste of time he simply didn’t have time for. After he secured his new ship, he would simply return to fetch them, provided they were still on board.

The door to the room slid open to a terrified squeak, and Lumis just managed to catch sight of Anakin as he dove behind the bed to hide behind the barely conscious Aestus, a faint smirk spreading across his lips at how seriously the terrified Skywalker was taking his directive to stay out of sight. For all the trouble and pain his counterpart had caused him, it felt like justice to see a Skywalker cower in his presence, a thing he had dreamed of often. For a moment, he had forgotten why he was there, revelling instead in the fear that radiated through the Force, and for a moment, Lumis considered stepping inside the room and sealing the door shut, allowing his very presence to send Skywalker into a panic strong enough to make the Dark Side howl and thrash with hunger and rage, fueling his power and filling him with the pleasant rush he had grown to crave.

But the moment passed quickly. He had a mission, and his already slim chance of survival diminished with each passing second.

“I’m going out,” Lumis said firmly. “Stay on the ship.” It was an order, a direct one, one he felt confident would be obeyed, and without another word, Lumis closed the door and left to hunt for his new ship.

* * *

 

When Anakin noticed several large beings fall in step behind him, he knew he’d fucked up big time. With Aestus high on a combo of drugs that kept him knocked out for hours and Lumis out doing something, he’d not said, Anakin took the only remaining chance he had to escape. Quickly he’d dressed in some of Aestus’ clothing, using a belt wrapped around his waist twice to hold up the too large pants up. The boots he’d quickly discarded, they hindered him more than they would help him. He grabbed the bag he’d already packed with their few remaining rations and water before checking outside their cabin just in case Lumis decided to randomly return from whatever errand he’d decided to run.

There were no sounds other than Aestus’ snores when he slid the door open, his quick check with the force revealing the ship empty of life forms except himself and the alpha. He hurried for the turbolift, jamming the button repeatedly to lower it to the ground before anyone noticed he was missing. His last attempt had failed, Aestus catching him before he’d even made it from their cabin and ending with him chained and muzzled for over a week. As much as the thought of leaving still terrified him, the thought of Lumis scared him even more.

The man was an enigma to him, crazy and cruel one moment then kind and gentle the next. He’d given him the cut across his face while attacking him without cause and severely wounded Aestus when the alpha had attempted to protect him. Yet a few days later he’d healed Aestus and freed him from the muzzle, not killing him despite the panicked snap of his teeth towards the Sith. There was no predicting Lumis, no set behavior pattern to anticipate, no rules to follow and it left Anakin riddled with constant anxiety as he tried to remain unnoticeable while on a small ship.

It was survival instinct that had drove him to escape again, his alpha’s inability to protect him from the threat Lumis posed overriding any conditioning and punishment he’d experienced. He hadn’t waited until the turbolift made it all the way to the ground, jumping off the platform when there was still several feet to go. His feet made little noise as they had slapped against the duracrete while he ran across the spaceport, anxious to get into a crowd to disappear, hoping Aestus’ musk-scented clothing would cover his own natural scent.

For a moment he had felt safe, his head kept down to not draw attention to the bandages still partially wrapped around his head, just one of many beings in the crowd headed somewhere at the end of the day. Then the hairs on the back of his neck had started to prickle, the same as they had when Aestus stalked him on Coruscant. In the force, neither Lumis or Aestus were near, alleviating the worst of his fears immediately. A quick glance behind him showed a group of large beings maintaining a reasonable distance behind him that probably wouldn’t of alerted most people, but the months spent in his alpha’s care had heightened many of his instincts.

He knew he stuck out in his too large clothing, bandaged face and bare feet, and not in a good way. He looked like any number of street vagrant, where any being on the street wouldn’t blink if he were abducted in front of them, probably with a good riddance for more trash getting taken from the street. Good Samaritans were few and far between that would step in and help even if he were dressed as the average citizen. His best chance would be to lose them in the crowd, something that had been far easier when he’d been younger and waist height.

Anakin felt partially relieved as he made it to the main thoroughfare and a large crowd of people in the streets. He weaved through the crowd, ducking and dodging between all manner of beings in his attempt to escape both the Sith Lords and his new stalkers. He didn’t stop, fear driving him with each step until he was a good distance from the docking bay where he’d started. Already, he was short of breath and his legs ached with the exercise Anakin was no longer used to performing. Too long, he’d been chained and partially starved, far too long to keep the grueling pace he set for any real length of time.

Apparently, he’d already pushed himself too far as some being clipped his shoulder and he was knocked off his feet. The crowd didn’t slow down around him and he barely managed to avoid being trampled by scrambling the short distance to the alley on hands and knees and he hadn’t managed to entirely avoid a few cruel kicks. Anakin’s heart pounded loudly in his ears while his body shook both from exhaustion and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He had to escape, to find a ship and stowaway, to escape his cruel alpha and the crazed Sith, to somehow find his way back home to the Jedi Order where he could be safe and protected behind its ancient walls.

If he could make it back, they could protect him. He would submit to any punishment they devised, any demands they made of him, never step foot in any ship if they asked it of him. When the Council lectured him, he would listen attentively and actively try to follow his guidance this time. If they wouldn’t allow him back as a padawan he would enlist as a Temple mechanic. Anything as long as he’d feel safe again.

Not even two Sith Lords could take on the entire Jedi Order.

He hoped.

No, he knew. Master Windu was the greatest lightsaber wielder in existence. Master Yoda had a command of the force that most would never achieve. The Council was full of great Jedi who would have no issues taking care of a few Sith no matter how crazy or powerful they were.

He just had to make it to them. Which meant getting on a ship and leaving, one no one would suspect him to take.

Despite knowing he had to move, had to get going again, his legs refused to support him. Anakin clawed at the duracrete building trying to stand, but no matter how much he willed it, his body refused to cooperate. He was too tired, too weak to make it any further until he had time to rest and eat some of his precious rations. 

Carefully, he tucked himself into the shadows, relying on the black of his stolen clothing to keep him hidden while he fumbled through his bag for something to eat and drink. Though the fear continued to pound in his head and heart, the hair on his neck no longer stood up like it once did and his brief feel of the force placed both Lumis and Aestus a good distance from him. He should be safe enough there for a brief rest until he continued as hidden as he was.

The ration bar was dry in his mouth and took considerable chewing for him to be able to swallow the small bite he’d taken. Luckily, he’d never been picky about food in his life, a trait he’d become immensely grateful for as his diet had narrowed down to ration bars with the occasional bits of real food becoming a rare treat. But if, no,  _ when _ , he escaped, he was never eating a ration bar again if he could help it. The Jedi didn’t have rich diets, but the food was generally well seasoned and a variety was offered. He wished now for even the blandest of their porridges while being immensely grateful for the ration bar.

After carefully eating half the ration bar and finishing one of the bulbs of water, Anakin settled in to keep careful watch on the alley entrance. In the shadows of the alley it was cold, the heavy clothing warding off the worst of the chill, but still leaving him shivering with each bit of wind that found its way through. The duracrete wall only absorbed the chill, leaving his back numb from leaning against it.

At some point he’d fallen asleep, waking up as hands grabbed him tightly and roughly. He tried to scream or fight, but a hard blow to the head stopped him before he’d made so much as a sound. Pain seared in his face, nearly causing him to pass out, the blow reopening the barely scabbed-over wound that Lumis had given him and causing blood to start running down his face and in his eyes again. Tears mingled with the blood as one of the large humans picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing.

The men were speaking between each other, but Anakin was unable to make out their words, not with his ears ringing so loudly. No one in the main thoroughfare even looked their way and pretty soon they turned a corner until he was no longer able to see the lighted walkway. The further they walked, the more his resignation set in even as his panic and fear continued to rise. He had been stupid to leave the ship, stupid to disobey Lumis’ direct order, stupid to even think that escape would ever be possible for him. All he wanted was for Aestus or Lumis to come charging around the corner behind him to save him. He’d never run away again, he’d listen and obey their every word. There was no doubt in his mind that life would be rough under the two Sith, but it would not be as rough as it would with the men kidnapping him.

He whimpered when a large hand groped his ass, squirming away from his touch that earned him a harsh word and firm slap to his rear. Bile rose up as the man continued to grope him through his pants, a finger prodding between his cheeks that made him shudder with fear. They came to a stop, Anakin being dropped down so quickly that it made him empty the meager contents of his stomach right next to and on someone’s boots. He could hear their mocking laughter before a boot caught him in the ribs and sent him across the dirty ground to lay at another being’s booted feet.

“Don’t damage the merchandise!” A distinctly human voice reprimanded.

“If you ask me, it’s already damaged goods. A bit more isn’t going to hurt.” Came the sarcastic reply.

“Before we decide to do anything, let’s at least get a good look at him. Then we’ll know whether he’s even worth trying to take back.”

Two hands grabbed his arms and dragged him up to hang limply between him, his legs refusing to cooperate enough to stand on his own. A human man cupped his chin and lifted his face to inspect it while Anakin tightly shut his eyes despite the pain it caused. His head was tilted this way and that, the bandages covering his cut face ripped off and thrown on the ground so the man could get a better look. When he let go, Anakin’s head fell, not daring to look up or at his other captors. Fingers prodded his neck and the bondmark with its fading bruises from the last time his alpha had fucked him.

“His face is going to be scarred and he’s got a bondmark, but he’s still pretty enough to fetch a decent price. Young too. Where’s your alpha, pretty thing? You a runaway?” The man asked rather gently.

Anakin didn’t respond, couldn’t respond other than a whimper and a shake of his head. That didn’t seem to satisfy him as his head was jerked back roughly by his hair to look the man in the face. He couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped him as he met his captor face to face.

“Answer me when I speak to you and we won’t have to hurt you, pretty boy.” He knew the man was lying by the cold, calculating look in the man’s green eyes despite his soft tone.

“Ye-yes, sir.” Anakin responded shakily through his cries.

“Good boy. See, this can go real easily as long as you answer my questions. If you don’t, well, the boys here always have an appetite for omega and there’s always a market for whores with no restrictions, no matter how marked up.” His fingers gently trailed Anakin’s jaw of the unhurt side of his face.

Revulsion ran through him as the images of what the man was thinking ran through his head unbidden. Omegas naked and chained in tiny rooms, scars and fresh wounds covering their bodies with blood painting the floor. Two alphas knotting a petite omega and laughing as the omega screams while being torn. Dead bodies of the lucky ones who were killed by clients. If there’d been anything remaining in his stomach, he would’ve thrown up then and there too.

He prayed to the force to be saved even if he didn’t deserve it.

* * *

 

Lumis was halfway to the large general store at the far end of the port when he felt the Force strain with tension, the line that kept him rooted and anchored and held the fires of insanity at bay taut with sudden fear and panic, and Lumis could feel the Dark Side rise to meet the desperate cries for help, savage, feral possessiveness raking through him and tightening his chest with cold fury. Something, or someone was touching something that belonged to him, and nobody touched Lumis’ things. Ever. Not anymore. Not after Maul had killed Satine and his son.

He allowed the Force to guide him as he followed the tight pull of the line that hooked him, slight wiggles of his fingers causing the throngs of people crowding the port to step dutifully to the side and allow him to pass. He wove between ships refueling at their stations and ducked into the alleyways between buildings, his sharp eyes darting around to investigate every questionable sound, every pull of the Force, every sight that offended his sensibilities, of which there were many, but none had done him any personal wrong, the line in the Force continuing to pull him toward his destination.

He felt it before he saw or heard it, the snarling wrath of the Dark Side rising within him and burning his eyes as glowing gold melted into bloody red, the end of the line upon him with the rising terror of the one who had pulled him in. Slipping into an isolated alley, he followed the dark, grimy walls to a small yard behind an abandoned dock, harsh laughter and pitiful, muffled whimpers drawing him swiftly closer to the group of five heavily armored men, the thrashing of the Dark Side suddenly becoming cold and still as the Sith Lord grasped it tightly and let ice flood his veins. 

Emblazoned upon their heavy pauldrons was the symbol of the Black Sun, the crime syndicate that had aided Maul in his attack on Mandalore, had given him the army he needed to invade and slaughter Lumis’ Empress and his unborn son, had burned Sundari in their vicious attack. And now here they stood, once again stealing something from Lumis, and though he didn’t know what that something was, it didn’t matter. These men were going to die in the slowest, most spectacularly painful way Lumis could dream of, and he would love every second of it.

A sharp, shrill whistle from the Sith Lord made the Black Sun soldiers swiftly turn, quickly drawing their blasters and taking aim, and Lumis got a good look at the ragged, frightened creature, his curling hair gripped tightly in one of the men’s fists, his thin arms held tightly by two others. Anakin Skywalker, young and thin and impossibly terrified, shook violently in their hard grasp, whines and whimpers spilling helplessly from lips red with blood from where his lip had been split, his thin frame practically drowning in an oversized shirt that hung off his shoulder to expose a smooth, pale chest. 

There was a brief moment of shock within Lumis, a moment of incomprehensible confusion as to why the Dark Side would so violently send him running to the defense of Anakin Skywalker, why he should feel so protective, so defensive of the boy that the Force itself was raw with his raging emotions, but the moment passed quickly. Of course he was here. This boy, so different from his own Skywalker, belonged to Lumis, and he was compelled to protect what was his. He could sort the why out later. There was still a long way to Mustafar.

“Well, what do we have here?” one of the men asked, his voice low and rough, his size positively enormous as he sniffed at the air and stared at the Sith Lord. “Looks like another omega for the taking. Must be our lucky day.”

“I’m afraid the only one who will be taking anything today is me,” Lumis said, his voice soft and smooth and calm despite the rage clawing at his chest, and he pointed toward the fearful omega in their grasp. “That boy belongs to me. Unhand hm, and I’ll take your lives quickly.”

There was tense silence as the Black Sun soldiers stared at the thin, tattered man, the black robes he wore frayed and burned and bloodied like he had lost several fights in a row, and after a moment, the man laughed harshly and sauntered forward. “I ought to stuff my knot in your ass and teach you some respect, boy. Just who the hell do you think you are?” A slow, wide grin spread across Lumis’ face as he looked up at the thug, his fingers gently drumming against his leg as the sound of priming blasters filled the tense air.

“I am out of place,” Lumis drawled pleasantly, a wry smirk on his face as he watched the man before him frown, his brow knitting together in confusion. “I woke up the other day very, very far from home with no hope of ever returning, and if that weren’t bad enough, I am surrounded by dog people.” Insulted outrage flashed across the criminal’s face, his grip tightening on his blaster, and Lumis simply grinned. “That’s right,” he said sweetly. “Dog people. All of you. You, your friends, every wretched soul that thinks to call themselves human.” Lumis scoffed, his amicable expression dropping away into one of disgust. “With your ridiculous knots and your animal heats and your self-lubricating assholes, you are primitives, the whole lot of you, made to serve the existence of your elevated betters.”

“Insolent whelp...” the man snarled. “You aren’t even worth taking. Shoot him, boys.” The smug triumph on the thug’s face faded quickly when no shots were fired, none of his men moving to obey his command. He quickly turned, the flash of anger becoming bewildered terror when he saw his men with their blasters drawn and primed and aimed at each other’s heads, their arms shaking with strain, their jaws tightly clenched and sweating profusely as if they were struggling to move but could not, their omega captive clutched in loose grips but still too afraid to move.

“As I said...” Lumis drawled, the ghost of a smirk touching his lips when the thug turned and looked at him with confused fear upon his face. “Dog people. Born to heed the demands of their master, and you are no different. Now, heel, boy.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the Black Sun soldier dropped to his knees, his weapon falling from limp fingers and his head bowed in reluctant submission as he grunted and growled against a body that would no longer obey. Lumis glared at the man, a disgusted, angry sneer curling his lips for a moment before his gaze flicked up to look at the still, petrified Anakin, a pitiful sight in the grasp of his captors that now belonged to the Sith Lord, and he gently extended his hand toward the trembling omega and beaconed for him.

“Come, Anakin,” Lumis softly commanded, and it was all the boy needed to jolt him into action, a sob of relief pulled from his lips as he yanked himself away from his captor’s relaxed grip and flung himself at Lumis’ feet, clinging tightly to his leg and trembling against him as he cried. The raging of the Force and the straining tension that had drawn him here released in a moment, the line going slack and the storm abating now that Lumis had reclaimed what was stolen from him. With the boy safe, Lumis gave Anakin a quick, nearly tender look, and returned his attention to the Black Sun.

“Well now...” the Sith said softly as he took his lightsaber off his belt and spun the hilt deftly in his hands, the thug at his feet staring at it in wide-eyed horror. “Usually I’d draw this out and savor it, but I’m on a tight schedule, and this was a detour I did not anticipate having to take.”

“Jedi...” the man gasped in fear, and Lumis’ nose wrinkled at the thought.

“ _ Jedi _ ...” the Sith Lord mocked, tapping the saber hilt on the top of the captive man’s head. “In a moment, you’re going to wish I was a Jedi. Now open your mouth,” he said sweetly, holding the lightsaber in front of the man’s face and gently laying the tip on his tongue when he did as he was commanded. “Ever given a blowjob before?” Lumis asked, grinning when the thug’s throat tightened to speak, and the Sith gently hushed him. “No, you don’t need to say anything, I understand. Just do your best. Do you know what it’s like when a lightsaber cums?” Lumis gasped, his eyes widening in sinister delight when the criminal whined. “No, wait! I won’t spoil it for you, you’ll see for yourself!” He pushed the saber further into the man’s mouth, the pleasure of the Dark Side humming in his ears as the thug gagged. “Well? Go on then. Pleasure it, slut.”

A tight, choked sob in his throat, the Black Sun soldier did as he was told, his lips closing around the cold, silver weapon and gently sucking upon it, his tongue moving in slow, sloppy circles around it as he bobbed his head, never managing to take much into his mouth, but he continued nonetheless. He moaned softly when felt a warm pulse of pleasure in the back of his mind that swiftly spread hot through his veins, his breath quickening as he closed his eyes and sucked in earnest when he felt his cock stir with arousal, eager to continue if it meant the rush of pleasure would only continue.

With the man at his feet compliantly fellating his lightsaber, the fear and reluctance screaming in his mind reduced to mere whimpers by the need to obey, Lumis turned his attention to the other four men, a sharp, hard look in his glowing red eyes. “Now, we don’t want to make a scene...” Lumis said softly, the men straining harder against their noncompliant bodies. “Nobody make a sound, understand?” Swift, terse nods of their heads served as responses when their mouths tightly closed, and Lumis gestured in their direction. “Good. Shoot each other in the leg.”

The sharp whine of discharging blasters filled the air and the four men dropped to the ground, the close quarters of the powerful blasts tearing their legs from their bodies in ragged, bloody messes of torn, burned muscle and shards of bone. Clutching tightly to what remained of their shredded legs, the men bit down hard on their tongues in desperate effort to obey the Sith’s command of silence, strained gurgled screams of pain tight in their throats as they choked on blood that filled their mouths. It didn’t take long for the blood gushing in thick, heavy spurts to drain the strength from them, their frantic, anguished jerking and writhing becoming sluggish and feeble, until they finally lay still, the rush of blood flowed to a trickle with the final beats of their hearts.

Lumis closed his eyes, shuddering as he felt the Dark Side flood with the satisfaction of blood and death thick in the air, the cold snap around him filling him with power and purpose like he hadn’t felt in quite some time. He looked down at the thug before him, his head bobbing on the length of the lightsaber and his hips rolling against his hand as he palmed at his hardened cock, soft moans deep in his chest despite the terror and tears in his eyes. Sighing in satisfaction, Lumis threaded his fingers through the man’s thick black hair, stroking his head gently as he switched his saber on, the red blade hissing as it effortlessly slid through skin and bone to pierce through the back of his head, his movements stilled and his moans silenced beneath the thrum of the lightsaber.

Switching the weapon off, Lumis pushed the body to the side to allow it to fall unceremoniously to the ground as he clipped the weapon back to his belt, breathing deeply as he closed his eyes and felt the sting of red recede to his glowing gold. Despite the wide, crowded expanse of the spaceport just a few turns down the alley behind them, all was silent here, the air thick and heavy with the scent of blood, the Dark Side purring with the pleasure of cruel death, and Lumis felt himself slipping almost effortlessly into the dark peace of the Force, still and silent, cold and beautiful like the destruction left in the wake of a storm. And then there was the softest whimper, the slightest tug upon hs robes, and Lumis opened his eyes to look down at Anakin Skywalker peering up at him with wide, expectant blue eyes, his hands wound tightly in the soft fabric of Lumis’ robes and his nose and mouth hidden in the folds beneath.

Anakin Skywalker. He had forgotten about Anakin kriffing Skywalker.

“Get up,” Lumis sternly commanded, and the boy was on his feet in an instant, fidgeting nervously and a low, soft whine in his throat, his split, bleeding lip trembling as he looked at the Sith Lord. “I thought I told you to stay on the ship,” Lumis harshly reprimanded, and the omega winced, cowering as if he would be struck, though Lumis made no move to do so. He made a pitiful sight, with his bloody face and the long cut at the side of his eye, the skin around it red and swollen from where Lumis had struck him days before.

“Be still!” Lumis snapped when Anakin shuffled away as Lumis stepped forward, and with a pitiful whine, Anakin obeyed, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head until the Sith hooked his fingers under the boy’s chin and forced him to look up, Lumis’ eyes narrowing as he examined the boy for further injuries, though it seemed as though there were none. With an exasperated sigh, Lumis passed his fingers over the boy’s red lips, stopping to gingerly touch at the split skin, and heeding his will, the Force rushed to him in a breath of warm air, spreading through to his fingers as he commanded it to mend the boy’s wound. It worked, faster than the first time he had done it, and with better results, the split swiftly closing into a smooth red line that would disappear soon enough.

“This is what happens when you do not obey my orders,” Lumis gently admonished, his hand passing to run along the slice beside his eye, and Anakin leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm as the Force did its work.

“I’m sorry, Master...” Anakin muttered absently.

“I’m sure you are, now that you know what happens when pretty little boys don't listen.” He chided, watching the angry, red cut drain its color and mend into a thin, white line bisecting the blue eye. His fingers traced the sharp contour of the thin cheek, before patting it. “But you're going to obey my every order now, aren't you?”

Anakin nodded earnestly, his blue eyes not quite meeting his gaze. Lumis’ grip grew painful, “Look at me when I'm speaking to you, boy.” He commanded harshly. When the boy tried to nod, he gripped even tighter. “Use words, slave.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin's words were muffled by his hold, but his eyes finally met his. Lumis relished the fear in them, at seeing Skywalker, even this pitiful version, so fearful yet worshipful of him. It was a heady rush and he gentled his grip into a caress.

“Now, if I'm going to make my trip, I need a better ship. If you behave, you can accompany me. If you disobey, I'll make you wish you'd never been born.” The last threat was delivered with an insincere smile, his tone light and cheerful. “Understand?”

The omega nodded, “Yes, Master.”

“Good, now a few ground rules. You will address me as Master. Speak only when spoken to and only by me. You will stay within an arm’s distance of me at all times. Do not wander, do not bother me, follow all my instructions, and we will be just fine, sweet boy. Now, let's see about that ship, shall we?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, your bi-weekly dose of trash is here right on time. This episode is brought to you by Kurenaino who has way more discipline than Glare and Icse.

“We need a ship,” Lumis declared to the omega that clung to his arm like a lifeline, the two sauntering slowly down the bustling port along the rows and rows of ships docked there. “Something better than that piece of shit we currently occupy. Something not crafted by filthy, slimebag Neimoidians.” When his clinging companion said nothing at all, Lumis wrinkled his nose in distaste as he glared at the boy, the weight of his displeasure making the young Skywalker shrink down smaller and fidget uncomfortably, his head low as if expecting to be struck. Silence when it came to the matter of ships was not something Lumis was expecting from Anakin Skywalker, a pilot so talented that he overshadowed a young Obi-Wan’s skill in the eyes of his Master Qui-Gon when he was just a child. The first sign of many that he would be replaced by a seemingly more talented model.

“Do you know anything about ships, Anakin?” Lumis asked, a question he already knew the answer to, but he felt the need to ask it anyway to spur the mute boy to speak. Eyes wide, as if unable to understand why he was being asked anything at all, Anakin slowly nodded, worrying at his lip when Lumis’ eye twitched with mild irritation. “Words, boy,” the Sith commanded, and Anakin ducked his head, swallowed hard, and nodded in understanding.

“Y-yes...” he stuttered, his voice shaking and hoarse from disuse, and he flinched away from the Sith Lord for a moment, his face flushing when he saw the man hadn’t lifted a hand to him like he expected. “Y-yes, Master...”

“Hmm...” Lumis hummed, looking the boy over as the small thing clung tighter to his arm. “I know a great deal about ships as well,” the Sith chirped as he pulled the startled Anakin closer to him. “I’m something of an enthusiast, you might say, so we need something nice. Something elegant and luxurious, I’m tired of flying in a glorified dumpster.”

“Something like the J-type 327 Nubian starship?” Anakin quietly offered, a nervous smile on his lips when the Sith Lord grinned.

“Exactly so,” Lumis said brightly, affectionately patting Anakin’s hand and chuckling when the boy snuggled against him. “An excellent suggestion, you have good tastes. I have always been a fan of the Naboo J-type line of ships. A beautiful mating of art and design, my time working on Queen Amidala’s Nubian was, perhaps, the final highlight of my career as a Jedi.”

“...were you really a Jedi?” Anakin asked quietly, his voice muffled by Lumis’ robes, and while the Sith Lord would usually take offence by such prying, especially by such a hated rival, Lumis found himself unoffended by the question.

“I was,” Lumis muttered, his eyes roving over the lines of ships as they passed them. “Not just a Padawan, a Jedi Knight. For a time, I was a living legend, the most promising Jedi in the Order. Even more than you,” he said with a sneer, the omega shrinking down and hiding his head in the Sith’s black robes to avoid his angry gaze. “Not that my Master ever saw that, all he ever saw was you.”

“I’m sorry...” Anakin whimpered, his hands tightening around the fabric of Lumis’ robes and pawing almost frantically at his arm, and the flash of anger quickly subsided as the Sith Lord looked at the pitiful creature. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Anakin repeated, and with a heavy sigh, Lumis patted the boy on the head, his fingers twirling around the blond, curling locks.

“It wasn’t you,” Lumis quietly comforted the shaking, clinging boy. “Not really, though it could have been, had circumstances been different.” Anakin said nothing, his jaw tightly clenched to keep himself from speaking, and Lumis sighed. It hadn’t been his intention to silence his companion. “Did you arrive on Coruscant in a Nubian?” Lumis asked as soothingly as he was able, the boy on his arm tensing regardless and silent as he nodded, wincing as he remembered the rebuke he had gotten before for not answering, and he whimpered softly as he considered his response.

“Yes, Master...” Anakin almost whispered. “From Tatooine. W-with Padme and...” His words caught in his throat, the boy shaking as he shut his eyes and shook his head as if to rid himself of a bad memory. “And Qui-Gon...” he said under his breath, his eyes falling to the ground as his shoulders hunched, the loose shirt sliding off his thin shoulders.

“...what do you think of that ship?” Lumis asked, pointing at a sleek cruiser just up the dock, a faint smile on his lips as Anakin lifted his gaze to follow where the Sith Lord was pointing, the boy immediately perking up as he eyed the ship. “Not so elegant as the Nubian, but it may suit my needs.”

“ A Horizon-class star yacht...” Anakin muttered excitedly, pulling his shirt back up over his shoulder only for it to slip back down a moment later, his excited smile faltering when he looked at the Sith Lord, the glowing intensity of the golden eyes so different, so much more dangerous than his alpha’s, and he couldn’t look away.

“Do you know this ship?” Lumis asked when the omega had stopped talking, and Anakin swiftly nodded, swallowing hard when the Sith said nothing, simply waited for his verbal response.

“Not specifically...” Anakin muttered. “But I know about the ship. I know about all ships.”

“Confidence,” Lumis said with a smirk. “Such a rare trait in a slave.”

“S-sorry, Master...” Anakin muttered swiftly, hoping the apology was quick enough to stop whatever punishment may come from his hubris, but nothing came, the Sith Lord simply considering the ship for a moment before he gestured casually at it.

“Tell me about it,” Lumis quietly commanded, and Anakin looked at him for a moment, taking a second to judge if the man had meant the command, and deciding that it was wiser to follow the command and risk it being a trick, Anakin swallowed to wet his throat, looked at the ship again, and nodded.

“It’s fast,” he began. “Very fast. Twin ion engines, a 0.5 class hyperdrive, rapid acceleration to full speed. Not much in terms of fire power, but it’s not uncommon for the wing pods to be modified with cannons.”

“Not very big, though, is it?” Lumis mused, considering the ship for another moment before he shook his head. “I appreciate a fast ship, but it’s not my primary concern at the moment. She’s too small for the comfort I desire.” Looking around the dock and pulling Anakin away from looking at the ship, he pointed to another one, a much bigger one at the end of the row, a wide grin on his face. “That one,” he said, pointing to the ship and looking at his grinning companion, the omega’s thin chest puffing in pride.

“A Minstrel-class luxury yacht.”

“Mm, that sounds better already.”

“If you’re not looking for speed, it is,” Anakin said, his nose wrinkling in obvious distaste of the slower vessel. “Class 2 hyperdrive, top atmospheric speeds of eight hundred kilometers per hour, but three times the size of the Horizon class.” Anakin frowned as he drew closer to the Sith Lord. “It’s expensive, though.”

“Credits aren’t an issue,” Lumis swiftly dismissed, frowning as he took another look at the massive yacht. “Although, now that I think about it, a ship that large will need significant crew, and I’ve no intention of having anyone in the cockpit with me.” Lumis pulled Anakin with him as he continued down the dock, eying ships as he went and smirking as he watched Anakin do the same. “You think you know your ships, boy?” Lumis asked, and the omega looked up at him, a slight smile on his lips as he nodded.

“Yes, Master.”

“Hmm.” Lumis pointed to one of the luxury ships on the dock, one among a row of almost fifty elegant personal yachts. “That one.”

“A Starwind-class pleasure yacht,” Anakin said without skipping a beat, the boy grinning when the Sith Lord smiled and pointed to another.

“Not sleek enough for me, it offends my aesthetic. What about that one?”

“You’ve got a good eye,” Anakin said. “The Baudo-class star yacht. One pilot, up to eight passengers, and powerful sublight drives that make it very fast.”

“It’s one to consider, at least,” Lumis said. “But it’s nothing like my ship.” The Sith Lord flashed a sly grin at Anakin. “What do you know about the X-70B Phantom-class?”

A wide, confident grin spread across Anakin’s face as he opened his mouth to answer and quickly stopped, the words dying in his throat as his brow drew together in thought. He was silent for a moment, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he seriously considered the question before looking at the Sith Lord, embarrassment on his face as he shook his head. “I...don’t know that ship,” Anakin stuttered, and Lumis chuckled softly as he patted the omega’s hand upon his arm.

“Of course you don’t, pet, the ship was last used during the reign of Darth Vitiate’s Sith Empire. But I got hold of the blueprints. The Umbra was a custom job based on the Phantom-class. I designed the modifications myself.” Sighing heavily, Lumis ran a hand through his hair, a faint, nostalgic smile on his lips. “Class 0.5 hyperdrive, state of the art sublight drives, a stygian stealth system, sleek and sexy and possibly the fastest ship in the galaxy and big enough to feel like home.” His eyes roving over the ships docked at the port, a bitter, angry sneer curled Lumis’ lips. “These ships pale in comparison to her. Bulky, offensive garbage, the lot of them...” he muttered under his breath. “...I miss home.”

“...Master?” Anakin asked timidly, leaning sideways to peer into the Sith Lord’s face when he turned his head away, the sudden change in his demeanor startling to the omega. “Where is home?”

“My palace on Mustafar,” Lumis said, a sad chuckle in his chest as he shook his head and stared out at the horizon beyond the ships. “Sundari on Mandalore. Serenno. The Umbra, all of them so very far away from here...”

“If we get a ship you like, we can go there,” Anakin quietly offered, reaching out to lightly stroke at Lumis’ chest. “If we get a fast ship like your old one, we can get there quickly!”

“Were it so simple...” Lumis muttered, flashing Anakin a half-hearted smile that quickly faltered. “I don’t have a home anymore. It’s all lost to me.” Taking a short, sharp breath, Lumis patted Anakin’s head to sooth the distressed boy, a small, reassuring smile on his lips which could have passed for genuine had his golden eyes not looked so wounded. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just another thing that the Force ripped away from me.” 

The omega’s hands tightened in Lumis’ robes, a soft whimper in his throat as he drew closer and nuzzled against the Sith Lord to comfort the obviously upset man, and was almost pulled off his feet when Lumis gasped and sharply pointed to a ship at the end of the dock, grabbing hold of Anakin and excitedly pulled him along. When Anakin saw what Lumis was pointing at, the boy broke into a run as well, the two sprinting together and skidding to a stop beside a sleek, elegant yacht, a masterful creation of blue-gray composite steel small enough to operate under a single skilled pilot and large enough to be considered luxuriously spacious. The ship spoke of opulence and speed, it’s sleek, arrow shaped design, smooth edges and state of the art ion engines promising only the best that money could buy. The owner of this ship had the be both rich and influential, and provided the inside measured up to his refined tastes, Lumis decided that he had to have this ship.

“A Viceroy-class star yacht...” Anakin said breathlessly when Lumis said nothing, only stared in silent admiration. “You have expensive tastes. These are some of the most advanced ships made today. They have a solar ionization reactor that makes them fly like a dream.” Anakin shrugged, a wistful sigh falling from his parted lips. “So I’ve heard. I’ve never flown one myself, but I’d love to...”

“What are the ship’s specifications?” Lumis asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the ship as he slowly walked closer, his gaze running over every detail as he drank in the sight.

“I’m...not entirely sure...” Anakin said, wrinkling his nose as he considered the yacht once again. “They’re privately manufactured and subject to the buyer’s needs. Class 1.5 hyperdrive is typical, standard systems if the ship is unmodified, I suppose.”

“And inside?”

Anakin shrugged. “I guess it depends on if this is a diplomatic ship or a private one, but honestly...I’ve only been on a ship this nice once before.”

“Well, I suppose the only way to find out is to have a look ourselves,” Lumis drawled as he walked toward the ship, Anakin following close at his heels. As they drew closer, Lumis tuned out the buzz of conversation and the shouts from the dockworkers as he listened to the low thrum of the yacht’s idling engines as the post-landing checks were run, the smooth, even sound soothing on his nerves and bespeaking of a quality only the finest engines possessed. Lumis took a deep breath and closed his eyes and felt the hum of the ship reverberating in his chest, and for a moment, he felt he was back in the presence of the Umbra, his own luxurious ship waiting on the docks to bring him back home, the Force itself humming in satisfaction and filling him with a sense of ease as he allowed the thought to carry him away.

Lumis was yanked out of his peaceful reverie by a sharp, shrill shout from a tall, thin human, the man running toward them at a brisk jog and dressed in finely tailored clothing. An attendant for the ship, Lumis decided, and with a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, he stopped and waited for the puffing, shouting man to reach them. When he did, a haughty look of disdain crossed his face, a thing that instantly made the Sith Lord bristle.

“Get away from this ship, you filthy vagrants,” the man said snidely, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he eyed the pair and took a step away from them. “We won’t have rats cluttering up this dock!”

“Vagrants?!” Lumis scoffed in disbelief, drawing up taller and tightening his hand as he felt power surge through his veins, the Dark Side howling and demanding blood in payment for the insult. “I’ll have you know, you insignificant wretch, that I am a Lord!”

“A Lord?” the man asked, a sharp, cruel laugh on his lips as he eyed the pair and gestured to them with a dismissive hand. “Dressed like that, I should hazard to guess that you are low even among the addict slum you belong to. You will find no handouts here, you wretch. Now get off this dock before I have security dispose of you. I doubt anyone will miss some filthy tramp and their omega slut.”

Without another word, the man turned on his heel and strode purposefully toward the heavily armed security guards that stood stationed at the open ramp of the ship, and panic tightened Anakin’s chest as he tightly grabbed hold of Lumis’ robes to pull him away, but the Sith Lord didn’t budge. Instead, Anakin found the man looking down at his robes, a frown on his face as he took in the tears and holes of the tattered robes he wore, the black fabric stained with caked blood and hanging off his too thin form.

“...well he’s right, isn’t he?” Lumis asked bitterly, a sneer of disgust on his lips as he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed hold of Anakin’s wrist to pull him away from the extravagant yacht. “How could I have not noticed before, this is unlike me...I must have been further gone than I realized...”

“W-where are we going?” Anakin stammered, looking over his shoulder at the ship he had been so enamored with, and he fell silent when Lumis’ grasp upon his wrist tightened with a low, angry grown in the Sith Lord’s chest.

“He’s right, Anakin, we look like vagrants. We can’t well look for a ship, let alone be seen in public looking like this. You and I, pet, are going shopping.”

  
  


Anakin kept close to Lumis as he made his way toward the large, silver building at the edge of the spaceport, a rounded, oblong dome that fell just short of classy for the gaudy, reflective sheen of the chrome metal that plated it. Whereas before, the Sith Lord walked straight down the path while the throngs of people cleared the way for him, now he wove between the crowd, ducked into alleyways when he could and kept to the edge of the walkways by the shadows. The bold, brash confidence of the Sith Lord had melted into humiliation, his presence that demanded attention now feeling meek and small, and Anakin found himself drawing closer to the man, gently nuzzling his arm to comfort his distressed savior.

Lumis’ hand tightened around Anakin’s wrist when they passed through the large sliding doors of the spaceport’s dome, a vast, open promenade lined with stores and stalls and shops packed with patrons dressed in clothing so fine that it made Anakin look at his own oversized, ragged shirt and baggy pants and feel the same shame he knew Lumis felt. He didn’t belong there. They didn’t belong there any more than these fancy beings belonged on the little shit ship they flew in on. Anakin pulled back, his bare heels grinding against the ground in the hopes of getting Lumis to stop, but the Sith Lord only tugged his arm harder, pulling him along as he stomped through the staring, disdainful crowed.

“Master...” Anakin whined when he saw where Lumis was pulling him toward, not one of the smaller boutiques where they could perhaps get lost among a more common crowd, but toward easily the most upscale store in the entire mall. “Master, they chased us away from the docks, they won’t let us in there!”

“They will,” Lumis growled between grit teeth. “They have to, they will give me exactly what I want...”

“But you don’t have any credits, do you?” Anakin whimpered, pulling back against the Sith grip as he attempted to wriggle away, and was nearly yanked off his feet by a hard yank upon his arm by the Sith who was willing to drag him if he had to. “Everything in there must cost a fortune!”

“As I said before, credits aren’t an issue...” Lumis said flatly, a gesture of his hand throwing the doors of the shop open as he strode inside, pulling the whimpering Anakin along with him. They were immediately met with the disdainful sneers of the pristine, immaculately tailored staff, a collection of thin and haughty men and women humans, Twi’leks and Pantorans. They immediately moved toward the grungy pair, looking down their upward turned noses as they began to chase them out if the store, Anakin cowering behind the Sith Lord as he stood his ground. Suddenly, the members of the staff wavered, the disgust on their faces replaced by vacant looks and absent smiles, their speech slurred as they mindlessly shuffled toward them and cheerfully greeted them.

Anakin held his breath, uncertain of what had happened and too afraid to say anything lest the pleasant shift in their attitude suddenly change, and he clutched tighter to Lumis’ robes and pressed himself against his back, the Sith once again tall and confident, the arrogant smirk returning to his lips and his golden eyes glowing brightly with unnatural light.

“I need,” Lumis said as he undid the belt cinching his robes and let the heavy, tattered garment slip off his shoulders and onto the floor, “new robes, tabard, dress shirt, slacks, boots, cloak. All in black,” he said sharply as he tore off the thin shirt he wore, singed and torn from the abuse he suffered at the hands of the Mandalorians. “Red trim and lining, all of it tailored.” Lumis kicked off his worn boots, watching as the staff scattered to retrieve the necessary materials while one of them removed a datapad from his back pocket and swiftly began taking notes. “Can you do that?” Lumis asked as he stepped out of his pants, swiftly pointing to one of the staff, and the girl went running to chase the other patrons out of the store and lock the doors.

“Of course, my Lord...” the man with the datapad drawled thickly, flashing the Sith Lord a dazed smile. “It will take some time, but we can do as you ask.”

“Work swiftly,” Lumis commanded, spreading his arms as the staff returned with the tools necessary to take his measurements and a variety of cloth for him to choose for him to choose between. “My time is valuable, be certain you do not waste it.”

Anakin shuffled on the ground, reaching out with shaking hands to grasp Lumis’ discarded tattered robes and clutched the frayed cloth close to his chest, his face buried against the soft fabric he had become so familiar with since his rescue and breathed deeply the scent of discharged plasma, the thick smell of blood and the odd non-scent that was this strange Sith Lord. The omega slowly looked up, his eyes running over the pale, thin man that stood before him, and realized that despite the fact that Darth Lumis had brutally fucked him raw more than once, Anakin had never truly seen the man before.

Lumis was thin. Very thin, his ghostly pale skin pulled tight over angular bones and lean muscle that made him look only just slightly more substantial than a skeleton would have been. He didn’t remember the man looking quite this unhealthy before, the toll of insanity or whatever it was that gripped his mind in the days he had been away exacted upon what little there was of him to begin with. From what Anakin understood, Lumis was, in many ways, a copy of Aestus, a man from another time and another place, though by looking at them, one never could have guessed that this was so. 

Lumis was a slight build, his body pale and hairless and covered in thin, lean muscle, where Anakin’s mate was very much the opposite. Built large with freckled, ruddy skin peppered with red hair, Aestus was the very image of health and vitality, an impressive specimen of an alpha in nearly every way, a cruel, vicious creature that Anakin had learned to be indisputably afraid of. But despite beatings, his kidnaping, his unwanted bonding and the rough, brutal rapes Aestus subjected him to, Anakin found himself far more frightened of Lumis. 

There was something there, just under and barely contained by that pale, paper-thin skin that Anakin could feel humming within the very blood that ran through Lumis’ body, something that reverberated through the air and made Anakin’s chest tight with cold and fear, something that even large, powerful Aestus turned away from while Lumis embraced it and wore it better than he wore his own pale skin. Lumis didn’t seem to inhabit his own body so much as he lived within the dark nexus of the Force around him, and that was more frightening than the physical brutality of Anakin’s mate.

Still, at least for the time being, all the terrifying forces that Lumis commanded were helping Anakin, not hurting him, and the little omega was determined to make certain it stayed that way.

“Oh, Anakin,” Lumis said softly, and the omega jumped as he was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts to find himself softly whining. He swallowed hard as he looked up at the Sith Lord, golden eyes touched with blood red peering down at him as the staff tending to him dragged long fingers and lingering touches across his skin as they worked. “Pick something out for yourself to wear,” he almost gently commanded. “It won’t do for you to continue wearing that dirty, oversized tarp if we’re going to acquire a ship worthy of me,” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he gestured to Anakin, the omega subconsciously pulling the too large shirt over his bare shoulder.

“I like this shirt...” Anakin muttered, earning himself a scoff from the Sith Lord.

“I’m certain I don’t care what you like,” Lumis drawled indifferently, his gaze shifting away from the omega to rake hungrily over a Pantoran female that stood too close to him to be professional, her fingers dragging slowly down his torso. “Do as I say...” Lumis muttered, and for a moment, Anakin wasn’t certain if the Sith Lord was speaking to him or to the enthralled woman.

“...what should I get?” Anakin quietly ventured as he picked himself off the ground and scooped up Lumis’ discarded robes.

“Something classy...” Lumis muttered thickly when one of the humans draped his chosen fabric over his shoulders. “Use your judgement. I am above this common rabble, and my possessions will reflect that. A Lord does not drink Gamorrean hooch when he has Alderaanian wine on hand. Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master...” Anakin mumbled. He wasn’t sure he did understand, but he didn’t want to ask for clarification, not when the Sith Lord’s attention had diverted to the men and women attending to him. He understood well enough that he was to do as he was commanded, and with a final look at the Sith Lord, Anakin shuffled between the racks of the store to look for something to wear.

It was overwhelming at first, so many choices and so many styles of the finest clothing Anakin had ever seen making his head spin, and he buried his face in the crumpled robes he carried, inhaling deeply to calm himself. Raised as a slave, he never had much, and the people that he encountered in Mos Espa on backwater Tatooine weren’t exactly the sort of people to be dressed in the galaxy’s finest, even if they were wealthy with dirty Hutt credits. People who wore things like this were civilized and didn’t typically venture out of their cosmopolitan lives on planets that mattered to visit rough, crime-infested worlds like Tatooine. Even Padmé, being royalty herself, never much cared for the elaborate finery of her station, preferring simple, more practical dress to the upscale clothing her office demanded of her, and Anakin mostly saw the girl dressed in simple tunics.

Not that he’d ever see her again.

His eyes drifted toward the door, and for just a moment, Anakin considered escaping again, thought of what it would be like to run from here and get on a ship, any ship, and he would be gone, never again to be found by his cruel mate or his terrifying other self. It would be an easy thing to do, with Lumis’ attention held by the men and women attending to him and the front door locked but unguarded. The moment passed quickly, and Anakin shuffled further into the shop, casting a worried glance toward Lumis for fear that the Sith Lord had somehow read his stray thoughts, but Lumis wasn’t even looking in his direction. Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. Out there, there were criminals and rapists and murderers, bad men who could take him away and do unspeakable cruelties to him, a fate that Lumis had already saved him from once. No, the closer he stayed to the Sith Lord, the safer he was, and Anakin was intent on staying put. The thought of leaving Master was unbearable anyway.

Anakin walked along the rows of racks, his hand running through the fabrics of the tightly lined clothing as he eyed the mannequins sporting the shop’s finest tailored suits. He never dreamed he could own anything so elegant, not even when his life improved drastically when he became a Jedi, the Order’s strict policy on owning nothing keeping Anakin from wishing much for anything. But as a child, he often thought about what it would be like to be wealthy and free, to have influence and riches greater than Jabba or Gardula, and he thought about that now, and while he may not have been free, he was the property of someone who may as well have been exactly that, where people came rushing with a snap of his long fingers, where credits of any amount were simply inconsequential. 

Anakin held his breath as he reached out to touch the sleeve of an elegant jacket upon one of the mannequins and shivered at the feel of the fine, silken material, looked around to be certain nobody was looking, and sighed as he rubbed his cheek upon it. The jacket wasn’t his style, the material too thin for his desire for warmth, the color wrong, but it was soft and smooth and pleasant to touch. Reluctantly letting go, Anakin moved to the next mannequin, then the next, touching the clothing they displayed upon them and imagining what it would be like to wear them, from the cut of the cloth to feel of it upon his skin, stopping with a delighted smile when he found a long coat lined with thick, soft fur.

Rushing to the coat, he took it off the mannequin and threw it over his shoulders, the boy’s thin form swallowed by the comically large garment, and Anakin nestled in the fluffy fur with a euphoric sigh. This was the one he wanted. This was the only one he wanted, something large and fluffy that could keep him warm through the persistent chill he always seemed to feel. Tightness suddenly gripped his chest and he hardly dared to breathe, and Anakin nestled further into the warmth of the coat with a quiet whine. Fear and anxiety rushed through him as he thought about the command he was given, and suddenly second-guessed his choice. What if his Master didn’t like what he selected? What if it wasn’t classy like Lumis wanted, what if it somehow displeased the Sith and made him appear lesser for having been seen with someone in such a thing?

None of the thoughts were good ones, and Anakin nervously shuffled through one of the racks of clothing and peeked out between the row of hung shirts to look at Lumis. The Sith Lord stood still as the staff draped fine black robes over his shoulders as he buttoned up a silk shirt, leaving his neck and chest exposed as one of the females petted and stroked at his stomach and hips. What the Sith Lord decided on was, Anakin decided, very Jedi. A very vain Jedi, perhaps, one that wore fine, elegant robes instead of the more humble, modest ones of the Order, but Jedi nonetheless. If Lumis were so comfortable in the robes of a Jedi that he would fashion his finery after them, than perhaps he had truly once been a Jedi Knight as he had said he was.

It was the safest bet, and one that Anakin didn’t object to, though he was still reluctant to shrug off the heavy, warm coat and place it back where he found it. Clutching Lumis’ discarded tatters close to his chest once again, Anakin shuffled back between the rows of clothing on racks and shelves and picked out a loose, dark gray tunic padded with fleece for warmth and matching pants. He resisted the urge to choose a looser, baggier size and chose a pair a few sizes down that tightly hugged his hips and his thin legs, a strange, foreign feeling to him, as he had spent the past months in Aestus’ care primarily nude. But it was comfortable and warm, even if it was a bit more restrictive than what he would have chosen, and it felt good to feel like a person again instead of an animal.

Taking a quick look out at the Sith Lord to check on his progress, Anakin looked at himself and frowned. Lumis cut a sharp figure, his form-fitting black pants and matching collared shirt accentuating his lean figure, while Anakin looked sloppy and unkempt, despite the fine clothes. Sharp eyes running over the Sith Lord and watching as the staff draped fine, elegant robes over his shoulders, Anakin ducked back into the racks of clothing, snatching a belt from a shelf and tucking his tunic into his pants as Lumis had done with his own shirt. Threading the belt through the loops on his pants, Anakin passed by rack after rack of clothing, dismissing rows of shirts and coats as too thin, too big, the wrong cut, not at all what he was looking for. 

He slowed when he came upon a line of mannequins displaying formal tunics and robes of office, a section far in the back clearly meant to cater to the politicians and public officials stopping by on their way to the political centers of the galaxy. Looking back to check the style of the robes Lumis was now tying around his waist, Anakin began to pace before the displays, periodically reaching out to touch sets of robes he deemed too rough, too bright, too ornate until he found a set of robes in soft, black wool weave, thick and heavy and simple, not unlike the set he had when he was a Jedi Padawan what seemed like almost a lifetime ago. 

Smiling brightly as he pulled the robes off the mannequin that displayed them, Anakin slipped the robes on to his shoulders and hugged them close to his body to revel in the heavy comfort of them. They were a bit long, down to his knees instead of mid-thigh at the proper length, but if he pulled them tight across his chest, it didn’t look too large and concealed well his almost sickly thinness. Grabbing another belt from the shelf from before, this one much thicker than his first one, he clasped it around his waist to hold the robes together, and satisfied with what he had chosen, began the trek back to his Master, stopping only to grab a large, heavy cloak from one of the racks that he promptly slid on his thin shoulders and sighed with contentment at how warm and cozy he felt.

Padding his way through the store as he wove through the various displays, Anakin picked up the pace as he caught sight of the Sith Lord, standing taller and smoothing out the clothes he wore to make himself look as presentable as possibly, and he was stopped in his tracks when Lumis’ eyes snapped to him. Anakin froze, his chest seizing with fear and a sudden arctic chill that ran like ice through his blood as Lumis’ golden eyes turned blood red and wild and dangerous, consuming murderous intent shooting like electricity through the Force. And then it was gone, the moment passed like a fading dream, and as he looked into gold eyes that felt almost warm, Anakin questioned whether he had seen the change in Lumis at all.

“Anakin,” Lumis drawled slowly, his sharp eyes looking the fretting omega over critically as he extended a hand toward him and beaconed him closer. “Come, let me have a look at you.” Bowing his head, Anakin dutifully shuffled to the Sith Lord, whining softly when Lumis hooked his fingers under his chin and turned his head back and forth as he appraised him. “Nice...” Lumis muttered, a faint smile on his lips as he rubbed the fabric of Anakin’s robes between his fingers. “Very nice.”

“Thank you, Master...” Anakin whispered, His gaze quickly falling to stare at the ground the moment Lumis let go of his chin.

“No shoes?” Lumis asked, and Anakin could feel his face burn with embarrassment as he looked at his bare toes and couldn’t believe he had been so stupid to forget something so obvious.

“I’m sorry, Master...”

“Think nothing of it,” Lumis said dismissively, snapping for one of the staff to run and fetch new boots for Anakin to try on, his sharp eyes watching the woman wolfishly as she went. “So!” Lumis chirped, turning his attention back to Anakin when the woman disappeared from view, his arms spread wide. “How do I look?”

Anakin looked up quickly, his heart beating hard in his chest as his eyes roved over the man before him. Lumis cut an elegant, dashing figure, the robes he wore closely hugging his thin body while hiding how unhealthy he truly looked. Instead, the Sith Lord looked simply lean and fit, willowy and royal in his bearing. If before he looked like a vagrant, now Lumis looked as though he had been born for wealth and groomed to rule, superior to those that surrounded him. He was, in a word, eerily beautiful, and Anakin couldn’t find his tongue for it.

“P-pretty...” Anakin managed to stammer when he found his voice, and immediately regretted speaking when the Sith Lord arched one of his slender eyebrows. “I-I mean handsome!” the omega swiftly corrected, winding the hem of his robes between his hands. “You look g-good, I-I didn’t mean-”

“Hush, sweet thing...” Lumis drawled, his voice low and smooth, almost seductive as he reached out to stroke Anakin’s cheek, his fingers brushing back his curling hair and his thumb running over his red, slightly parted lips. A sly, pleased smirk crossed over the Sith Lord’s lips when Anakin moaned softly, breathless and shuddering as the boy closed his eyes tight, and Lumis could feel the strong, heady pulse of arousal twist hot and insistent in his gut. Eyes shooting to the lithe Pantoran as she returned with the boots he asked for, Lumis wanted, felt the Dark Side thick and heavy with raw, carnal hunger, and wondered how long he had been without to feel the need so strongly.

“Are you hungry?” Lumis asked flippantly, tearing his eyes away from the enticing woman and focusing again on Anakin, a wide, excited smile crossing his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Put your boots on, make certain they fit,” he quietly commanded, watching the omega as he quickly moved to do as he was told, the Sith beaconing for the Pantoran woman when Anakin had snatched the box from her hands. She wordlessly obeyed, her long fingered hands reaching out to run lazily down his body and stroke back his thick, golden hair, and Lumis closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t have time to indulge, not if he wanted to get anything done that day, and he still had a ship to commandeer and a murder to plan. Sidious wasn’t gracious enough to wait for him to arrive. The longer Lumis took to get to Coruscant, the more likely it was that dear Master would become aware of his presence. He had to press his advantage while he had it, and that meant moving swiftly.

But the feel of her pressed against him was intoxicating and alluring, every fiber in his body screaming for release with an almost maddening itch just under his skin and the Dark Side snapped at his heels, demanding freedom to seek the pleasure it craved. Lumis brushed the feeling back, snapping the chains that bound the dark beast to remind it who its Master was, though the twisting knot of hunger and need in his stomach remained gnawing at the core of his being. Placing a slow, hungry kiss to the gasping woman’s neck, Lumis brushed her off of him just as Anakin stood, shifting in the boots and contemplating how they felt and nodding when he decided he liked them.

“Are you ready?” Lumis asked as he grabbed the black cloak he had selected from one of the staff and draped it over his shoulders, and Anakin nodded, quickly grabbing hold of the Sith’s arm when it was offered. “I hear,” he drawled softly as he lead him toward the door, “that there is a particularly exquisite restaurant here. Very expensive, the chef there will in a few years time come to be in Count Dooku’s employ at the Palace of Raxus. You need to make reservations months in advance, costs a fortune.”

“T-that’s where we’re going?” Anakin stuttered, his feet dragging as he gawked at the Sith Lord, and Lumis laughed softly as he rolled his eyes.

“Of course. We’re dressed for it.”

“Do we have a reservation?” Anakin squeaked, and Lumis only laughed harder.

“I never need a reservation,” Lumis drawled, and Anakin pulled back on his arm when the door slid open.

“We need to pay!”

“We need to pay!” Lumis mocked, stopping and spinning on his heels to look back at the dazed, waiting staff, giving Anakin a sharp look before passing his hand through the air. “The bill has been taken care of,” Lumis said, his voice a flat, eerie monotone that made Anakin shiver with the sudden surge of cold, one of the store clerks standing taller as his back became rigid.

“The bill has been taken care of,” the man repeated, and Anakin looked up at the Sith at his side, the red returning to creep into his golden eyes.

“Have a nice day,” Lumis chirped, waving to the enthralled beings, a sharp tug on Anakin’s arm pulling him off balance for a moment before he nervously did the same.

“Have a nice day,” came the monotonous reply, and Lumis turned and walked out the sliding doors back into the mall, taking a deep breath of the cool, filtered air.

“Satisfied?” he asked, and Anakin slowly nodded, drawing closer to Lumis as they stepped into the crowd, but this time, they drew none of the looks of scorn that they had before. This time, it felt as if they belonged there. “Good,” Lumis chirped, his pace easy and relaxed as he eyed the people that passed them by, returning appreciative looks from several pretty things on the other side of the walkway. “I do hope you’re hungry. I know I am, and Anakin dear, you and I are far too thin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are welcomed. We know you're reading this, be proud!


	8. Chapter 8

The restaurant Lumis guided them to was precisely as exquisite as he had promised it would be. Anakin had never set foot in such a place, even during the few meals he’d shared with the Chancellor. Low, warm lighting brought vibrant life to the striking red walls and golden features. Elegantly dressed patrons spoke in low tones, all but covered by the sound of clinking glasses and live music. Anakin had head music before, listened to the bands play in the cantinas back on Tattooine and the radio Qui-Gon let play in their quarters at times, but never anything like this: slow and striking, unlike the jaunty tunes he was accustomed to. It almost made him feel more out of place than the clear difference in class between himself and the other patrons, and he pressed close to Lumis’ side as they made their way toward the host.

“Do you have a reservation?” The host, a twi’lek in a sharp suit, asked, looking them up and down. For a moment Anakin feared they would be chased out, as they had been on docks, even despite their new attire. The wealthy always seemed to have a way of knowing an imposter among them, however nicely dressed.

But Lumis just smiled, and with a subtle wave of his hand commanded, “We don’t need a reservation.”

For a moment, the host froze, before his eyes glossed over and he smiled absently at the sith. “You don’t need a reservation,” he repeated.

“You’d like to seat us now,” Lumis continued, and the host nodded in agreement, stepping out from behind his desk to lead them further into the restaurant.

“If you come with me, I’ll seat you now.”

Settling down at the table they’re guided to, Anakin was surprised to find no menu awaiting them. Instead, the waiter returned with only two glasses of ice water, two glasses of wine, and a promise that their first course would be out shortly. His confusion must have been evident upon his face, because Lumis offered an explanation.

“Places like this only serve the finest, freshest ingredients,” he said, sipping at the provided wine. Anakin had tried it, as well, but found the red too bitter for his taste and opted instead for the water. “The menus change daily with availability, but whatever they have today is sure to be delicious.”

If the smell in the air was too be believed, Lumis was telling the truth. Already Anakin could feel his mouth watering, and his stomach clenched almost painfully with the reminder of how long it had been since he’d eaten real food. With Aestus, his diet was restricted almost entirely to rations, which were cheap to buy and easy to store even in Mustafar’s inhospitable climate. Fresh food was often a luxury for the both of them, used as a reward for good behavior.

Lumis explained the setup of various utensils and their purposes as they waited for their courses, pointing out which he would use for the next dish as they went, as well as informing him about the dishes themselves when they were presented. Anakin’s stomach had begun to feel almost uncomfortably full after the first two, but a lifetime of on and off starvation forced him to keep eating. He could not bring himself to waste too much.

As their meal continued, Anakin noticed that Lumis’ attention had begun to stray. Instead of the running commentary on the courses that Lumis had previously been providing, an explanation of ingredients and his thoughts on each dish, the Sith’s sentences had begun to grow shorter and his eyes had begun to wander. Anakin had grown to spurn attention under Aestus’ care, as it often came with pain and violation, but over the short span of time between Lumis’ rescue of him and the meal they currently shared, he had come to appreciate being the center of the beta’s attention. Lumis treated him more like a person than Aestus ever had, giving him clothing and asking his opinion of the ships they had seen in the many docking bays earlier. Anakin had begun to think that if he was good, really good, maybe Lumis would even allow him to sit in the cockpit as they jumped to hyperspace.

It had been such a long time since he’d seen the stars. 

But even as he thought it, Lumis’ gaze had once again wandered away from his companion, settling instead on a table of diners not too far away from their own. Human women, mostly omegas, the best that Anakin could tell, finely dressed and very beautiful. The fit of their dresses, emphasizing their shapely bodies, made him feel out of place once again in the new clothes he had procured. They were tailored to his size, but he was never meant to wear such finery. The women who had caught Lumis’ attention were unquestionably wealthy, in good station, and well-bred. Anakin was no more than a bug beneath their priceless heels, born to be bought and sold and bred like livestock. He didn’t deserve to even be breathing the same air.

While there were a few omega at the table, Lumis’ attention seemed to have been taken by one woman in particular. She was in her early twenties, if Anakin had to guess, her face still relatively free of wrinkles and her scent still strong in the air. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Good child-bearing hips, Aestus would have commented crudely if he were around. He had said the same thing of Anakin on more than one occasion, usually as they were tied together and the alpha was riding his latest high. Her black dress already settled high up on her thighs, though the hem had risen noticeably higher since Lumis had begun paying her such close attention. It seemed she had noticed his staring, and was not averse to the Sith Lord’s lustful gaze.

Anakin would have liked to blame her receptiveness on Lumis’ powers, but he hadn’t felt that tell-tale brush of the Force since the Sith had persuaded the hostess to seat them without a reservation, and had secured a bottle of expensive Alderaanian wine from their waiter with the restaurants compliments. Not that Anakin could blame her. Cleaned up and dressed in his crisp, black robes, Lumis seemed to belong among their elegant surroundings. A handsome man to be sure, despite his current thinness, who carried himself with such regalty that once might have mistaken him for the highest bred of alphas if not for his distinctive lack of scent. Still, he had to bite his tongue as he watched her excuse herself from her table, making her way over toward them with a sashay of her hips that Anakin decided was definitely unnecessary.

Lumis perked up immediately as he noticed her approach, leaning back in his chair and straightening his robes. There was a shine to his eyes that Anakin knew intimately well, a hunger he could always feel clawing at the back of Aestus’ mind whenever they spent time together. Lust, hot and heavy, pooled in the air around them, easily passing through the meager shields the omega attempted to throw up against it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, aware of his face heating and a wetness beginning to form between his cheeks in response to the heady atmosphere. Aestus had trained his body well to be ready whenever and wherever he decided he wanted Anakin.

“Is this seat taken?” The omega asked when she reached them, gesturing to what was most certainly not a seat and was, instead, the Sith Lord’s lap.

“Not for you, my dear,” Lumis drawled, taking her offered hand and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles and the glittering engagement ring on her finger. 

Perhaps she intended to use him as her last ride before an arranged mating to an alpha she didn’t love in her next heat. Anakin could understand this behavior well enough. If he’d known he was to be mated to Aestus, he might not have waited for his first heat to seek out intimacy with Padme. However, he couldn’t help the jealousy that coiled hot in his gut as Lumis pushed his chair back, allowing the omega to sling one leg over his and settle on his lap.

That lazy smile Lumis wore? The hooded look to his eyes? There was something in the back of Anakin’s mind that hissed that those things should be focused on him. He should be feeling the Sith’s hands as they leisurely stroked his sides; he should be murmuring heated things in Lumis’ ears as he ground subtly down on the man’s lap. Not her, this omega whore, who had so rudely muscled her way in on their quiet meal.

What did she have that he didn’t anyways? Status? Breeding? He was beautiful, too. Aestus often told him so, and he could certainly take whatever Lumis wished to give better than this frail bitch. He bet she’d cry, if the beta were to fuck her the way he’d taken Anakin in the past. She would scream and cry and beg for him to stop, as Anakin had in the first weeks he’d spent under Aestus’ care. While his mate might have taken pleasure in these things, aroused by forcing Anakin into submission, he doubted that cultured Lumis would find the same satisfaction in such an unwilling partner. No, this bitch could never handle Lumis’ appetites. Not the way Anakin could.  

So lost was he in his own brooding that he didn’t even notice that the omega in Lumis’ lap had gone still, glancing over her shoulder with wide eyes, nor the way the Sith Lord stared at him with a mix of surprise and irritation. He didn’t hear the low growl that issued from his own throat, rumbling through the crowded restaurant, drawing curious stares from the other clientele. Not until the music came to an abrupt and screeching halt, snapping Anakin out of his thoughts just in time to watch Lumis’ eyes narrow dangerously in his direction. In another situation he might have flinched, or dropped his gaze, submitting in hopes of negating the worse of whatever punishment was to come. But he’d riled himself up now, and Qui-Gon had often told him that his temper was the greatest obstacle between him and earning his Knighthood.

Lumis was the one to look away first, a sweep of his hands and Force-riddled command to go back to your meals, there’s nothing to see here sending the restaurant’s inhabitants back to whatever they were doing before Anakin had made his scene. When he turned back to Anakin, however, the omega could feel the flames of his anger as though they were licking at his skin. 

“Anakin,” the Sith hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously, “is there a particular reason you have chosen to interrupt my perfectly pleasant conversation with this wonderful young woman?”

If there was ever a moment to back down, it would be then. He was toeing a dangerous line with Lumis, getting between the Sith and something he wanted. A want strong enough that Anakin could feel it in the air around them. But instead he raised his chin defiantly, plastering a cocky grin he almost felt on his face as he declared, “You don’t need her,” and was pleasantly surprised when his voice only wavered a moment under Lumis’ intense stare.

The Sith Lord’s lips twitched with contempt, his grip on the other omega’s hips tightening briefly before he forced himself to let up, smoothing down the rumpled fabric of her dress. She might have protested the rough treatment if she were able, but it seemed she too had gotten caught up in the power Lumis’ command, staring dazedly into the middle distance, having forgotten all about the man on whose lap she currently perched. “You presume to tell me what I need?”

Anakin shrugged, finding the confidence coming easier. He wanted this: Lumis’ undivided attention. He wanted the Sith Lord to look at him the way he looked at her. He wanted to be desired by someone other than his mate, who told him such a thing was impossible now that Aestus had taken and marked him. “She could never satisfy you. Not the way I could.”

Whatever Lumis had expected him to say, it must not have been that, because the Sith’s brows jumped and the oppressive anger radiating from him was abruptly wiped away, replaced instead with surprise. “You wish to take her place?” The beta asked, incredulous, and Anakin smirked.

“If you think you can handle me.”

The teasing challenge was enough to catch the man’s interest, murmured words having the woman in his lap sliding off and walking obediently back to rejoin her party. Lumis watched her go for a long moment, and Anakin felt as though his heart would burst from his chest when the Sith turned his attention back to the young omega.

“Come here, Anakin,” he drawled, tone husky with lust, and extended a hand. Anakin obediently took it, rounding the table without hesitation as Lumis pulled him in closer.

The Sith’s chair was already scooted back from where he made room for the other omega, and Lumis was eager to help him along. He took hold of Anakin by a hip and thigh, guiding him up into the man’s lap, and Anakin ran his fingers though the man’s hair as Lumis settled him. Aestus enjoyed it, and Lumis was the same man as his alpha, if from another time and place. Surely they could not be so different in their tastes, or this little ploy would not have worked.

A wave of the Sith’s hand preempted the sound of shattering glass, the dishes containing their forgotten meal crashing to the floor as Lumis cleared their table with a brush of the Force. Anakin only had a moment to process it before he pitched backwards with a startled yelp, laid out upon the tabletop like one of the courses. The cool of the lacquered wood against his back was a sharp contrast to the heat of Lumis above him. His mouth on Anakin’s neck, his hands on his sides, his groin pressing into Anakin’s hips. The omega wrapped his legs around the Lumis’ narrow hips, pulling him closer, and rocked up into the pressure of the man’s stiff cock. 

Lumis whined, fingers spasming in his grip on Anakin’s sides, before he tore himself back and out of Anakin’s grip. For a moment the omega wondered in he’d done something wrong, been too forward in his intention, but the question was answered when Lumis took hold of the hem of his pants, dragging them hastily down the omega’s thighs. They tangled around his boots, and with a frustrated hiss, Lumis tugged those, too, from his body.

Anakin could feel the warm heat of slick as it leaked from his loosened hole and down the curve of his ass. He was wet, all but dripping with it, and he shuddered as Lumis fumbled for the band of his own pants, never turning his piercing gaze from the young omega’s as he pushed his trousers down far enough to free his dick from its confines. Stiff and reddened, Lumis took it in hand as he situated himself between Anakin’s legs once again. Anakin had glanced a few times at the other boys in the showers after sparring, and would guess that Lumis was well-endowed for his sex. Not as large as Aestus, of course, though he hardly considered that a fault. He wanted this, more than he’d ever wanted outside of his heats, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the lack of pain that came with an alpha’s cock.

“Hold still, baby,” Lumis murmured when he finally broke their stare, looking down to line himself up with Anakin’s wet hole. “Let Daddy do his work.”

The omega gasped as Lumis pressed into him, though the noise was all but drowned out by the Sith Lord’s own ragged moan. He supposed he should have expected there to be some pain with the intrusion, but it still managed to catch him off guard as the beta bottomed out, muffling panting breaths into the line of Anakin’s neck. Not enough pain to put him off, to regret taking this one action into his own hands, but enough that he was aware of every inch Lumis pressed into him. Every small twitch of the man’s hips when he was finally all the way inside him.

And it was, of course, significantly less agonizing than the first time Aestus had taken him.

Lumis’ first few thrusts were slow, experimental, adjusting to the feel of Anakin’s body around and beneath his own. Restrained, almost, and Anakin knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He, nor his Master. He wanted Lumis to take him, to have him, and he knew the Sith Lord wanted the same.

“Please, Master,” he begged as he coaxed fingers through the hair at the nape of the man’s neck, wrapping the other arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Please.”

Lumis’ pace faltered for only a moment before picking up, harder and faster as he chased his pleasure in the heat of Anakin’ body. The omega’s fingers scratched at his clothed shoulders, tugged at his hair, Anakin unable to mute the soft, pleasured sighs that came with Lumis’ every thrust into him. They were quiet compared to the beta’s own shameless moans, his babbled praises and exclamations, and a small part of Anakin couldn’t help but wonder if it was the sex itself that made him feel good, or if the pleasure came from submitting to his new Master.

The world continued to spin around them, it workers and patrons oblivious to the stretching and rending of the Force between the beta and omega. To the chain that before only bound them being forged anew as the crest of orgasm came over them, Lumis spilling inside Anakin’s body and slumping limply atop the boy. Anakin was pulled after by way of this new connection, his small cock spurting between them and onto their bellies.

“Good boy…” Lumis gasped, pressing sloppy, dazed kisses to the line of Anakin’s neck and absently petting his hair. “Such a good boy.”

Anakin purred, that strange sense of contentment that came with pleasing his new Master filling him up with a suffusing warmth he could feel all the way down to his toes. It was better than anything he’d ever felt, from the rush of sex in Heat to a secondhand high to the hot water baths Aestus would on rare occasion share with him when the alpha had an exceptionally difficult mission. In the moment, he thought he would, perhaps, do anything Lumis asked of him if only to receive that praise again. To feel that warmth and know that he’d been good.

After a long moment, Lumis finally pulled out, the wetness of his cum leaking from Anakin’s hole hastily mopped up with the edge of the tablecloth. The Sith cleaned himself with it afterwards before tucking himself away.

“Get dressed, Anakin,” he instructed as he ran fingers through his hair to tame it. “We have somewhere to be.”

Anakin hastened to obey, and when deemed presentable, eagerly followed Lumis out into the spaceport.

* * *

 

A sly grin spread across Lumis’ lips when he saw the same tall, thin human that had berated him and turned him away before standing upon the dock in front of the Viceroy-class luxury yacht he had his eye on. Drawing up taller and swiping his hand through his hair, the Sith Lord slowed his pace to a casual stroll and pulled Anakin closer when he felt the omega beside him fidget with unease in remembrance of the earlier humiliation they had suffered here. Clinging tightly to Lumis’ robes and looking up at the man for reassurance, the Sith absently threaded his fingers through Anakin’s curls, the thin omega shivering with a soft whimper as he sagged against him.

“Nervous?” Lumis asked softly, and Anakin buried his face in the fine black robes and nodded his head, and the Sith nudged him forward, forcing the smaller boy to walk when his feet dragged.

“He turned us away before,” Anakin squeaked. “He said he’d call the guards and nobody would ever miss us if we were killed! What if he remembers us!”

“I certainly hope he does,” Lumis drawled, the sly smirk growing wider as they approached, his eyes fixed on the ship’s attendant as th stuffy man shouted at a pair of hapless dock workers pushing hovercrates up the loading ramp and into the elegant ship’s hull. “I’d like to see the expression on his face when he realizes the mistake he’s made.”

“But-”

“You just keep quiet and let Master take care of everything,” Lumis said absently, and it was enough for Anakin, the boy smiling happily as he gripped tightly on to the Sith’s arm and nuzzled his face against him, breathing deeply to inhale the sweet, clean smell of his caretaker. There was nothing to worry about. If Lumis said he would take care of it, he would, and Anakin was perfectly happy to cling to the powerful man and remain silent as he watched him work. The Sith had taken care of everything else. He’d take care of this too.

Lumis’ sly smirk became a wide, delighted grin when the ship attendant’s eyes swept over them, looked away, and swiftly shot back to them, wide and disbelieving for a moment before they narrowed into confused outrage. Drawing up tall, he stalked toward the pair on a long, hurried stride and met them with an admonishing shake of his finger as he sputtered at the two formerly ragged men, but took a cautious step back when the taller man casually stepped up to meet him, his timid omega companion clinging tightly to his arm and hiding slightly behind him. This time, however, instead of the destitute vagrant, his golden hair was neatly styled, the man dressed to the nines, every bit as elegant and regal as the lord he had earlier claimed to be, and it gave the attendant pause, uncertain as how to proceed with the unusual circumstance.

“Y-you!” the attendant finally stammered, finding the courage to decide that filth was still filth no matter how well it was hidden. “What did I say about returning here?! Where did you steal those clothes from!”

“As I mentioned earlier, I am a Lord,” Lumis casually drawled, a disdainful smirk upon his lips as he eyed the tall, thin man, his judgmental gaze causing the attendant to squirm uncomfortably, though he attempted to maintain face by drawing up taller, his nose turned up into the air.

“And you expect me to honestly believe that?” the attendant said, a slight, uncertain tremor in his voice that made the Sith Lord smile pleasantly, barely concealing the malice hidden just beneath his polished surface.

“I don’t care what you believe,” Lumis said brightly, a cold, cruel edge that made the other man shiver. “The thought of the worms beneath my feet are of little consequence. All that matters to me is right now, you, my dear, are standing between me and the ship I am interested in purchasing.” His face flushed, the attendant swiftly looked behind him at the Viceroy-class yacht he was responsible for, and turning back to the Sith, his objections caught in his throat as the air was suddenly sucked back into his lungs with a casual gesture of the Lord’s hand. “Not a word, your betters are talking,” Lumis swiftly commanded. “All you need to do is show me the ship. I wish to see what exactly it is I will be buying.”

Against his judgement, his mind screaming objections to the insane request to purchase a ship that was not for sale, that had only been recently bought, the attendant bowed, a smile he did not want curling his lips as he gestured toward the ramp. “Of course, my Lord,” he quietly muttered, his voice strained and tense as each word was forcefully pulled from him. “Please, after you.”

With each step after the Sith Lord, the attendant’s stiff muscles relaxed as it became more and more difficult to remember his outrage and his objections, that this ship had an owner and was most certainly not for sale, that the man he followed up the boarding ramp had only hours before been a tattered vagrant, not a Lord that needed to be served. He closed his eyes and gently rubbed his temple in an attempt to soothe the dull ache, shook his head to clear the haziness he felt, but it only seemed to make it worse. Of course this ship was for sale, and it was his job to show the wealthy patron what he wished to see. The moment he accepted that he was supposed to serve the Sith, the pain in his head subsided, though the fog remained, a pleasant, hazy sensation that made submission easy, a churning for approval deep in his gut making him follow closely at his Master’s heels.

Lumis stopped when he was inside the hull of the ship and took a deep, slow breath, reveling in the small of newly forged durasteel and the sharp, acrid tang of an ion reactor, lighter than the standard fare, which confirmed Anakin’s earlier assertion that these ships came equipt with the more expensive solar ionization. He looked around the space, an open hangar for a row of speeders along the far wall, sleek and elegant like the ship they were housed in, with stacks and stacks of crates grouped together by the types of supplies they held, enough to keep the ship stocked for months, by the look of it. Venturing forward, he looked down a hall leading toward the back of the ship from which the low thrum of the engines and the hyperdrive originated from. Toward the front, the room in which he knew the ship’s main system drives, from lighting to communications, would be held. 

“Anakin,” Lumis whispered, leaning his head toward the omega that clung tightly to him. He gently pried the boy’s hands from his arms, and he was met with wide, frantic eyes, a desperate, keening whimper in his throat as he reached to cling on once again, but stopped and fidgeted nervously when Lumis raised a hand to stop him. “I want you to go take a look at the ship’s mechanics. Get a feel for it and return and tell me the exact specifications.”

Anakin swiftly looked down the hall toward the thrumming engines and back to the Sith, an excited smile on his lips as he lightly bounced on the balls of his feet. “R-really?” he asked in a small voice, his entire body shaking with hope and excitement, and nudging him toward the corridor, Lumis nodded.

“I mean it. Get a feel for the ship and return quickly, understand?” With an excited squeak, Anakin took off running down the corridor, stumbling over his feet in his haste and disappearing into one of the side halls, and with the omega out of sight, Lumis turned cruel, glowing red eyes on the enthralled attendant, the Dark Side whispering for blood and revenge against the hapless creature who had slighted him. “Do you feel stupid yet, filth?” Lumis growled, slowly advancing toward the man as he began to cower, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched as he backed away.

“My apologies, my Lord...” the man whimpered. “I didn’t know, I-”

“Of course you didn’t know,” Lumis snapped. “Nobody knows. Mine is a strong, proud line extending far before the creation of the Galactic Republic, so feared for our power that we were hunted to extinction. All but two of us, living in secret.” Lumis closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, calming the Dark Side that roiled tense and wrathful in his gut. “But not for much longer. Soon, very soon, we will return to rule over you all as your Masters, soon you will all know the fear of wronging the Lords of the Sith just as the others who slighted me today learned...” A small, disgusted sneer marred his lips as he looked at the cowering attendant, the tall man seeming so small in his fear. “But not yet,” Lumis said, dismissively flicking his hand in the air. “I still have use of you. Make me want this ship.”

“My Lord?” the mas asked, confused as he stared vacantly up at the glowing eyes as they rolled.

“I am in need of a ship,” Lumis patiently explained. “You have displeased me once already, and I fear you will find the punishment for such a transgression to be a slow, agonizing crawl toward a horrific end...” the Sith drawled slowly, stroking the lightsaber at his hip and grinning when the man’s eyes widened in fear and his lip trembled. “Make it up to me. It would please me to have a new ship, so tell me why I want this one.”

“I-it’s new, my Lord,” the man squeaked, drawing up and tugging on his collar and gesturing to the pristine surroundings. “Made on Shu-Torun for the Royal Family.”

“Really?” Lumis asked as he strolled toward the speeders at the back of the room. “You’re a long way from the Mid Rim. What are you doing all the way out on Cantonica? Is the King here?”

“No, the King’s brother,” the attendant said, his hands wringing as he followed the Sith Lord to back and began examining the speeders. “He’s here for Canto Bight, he has something of an...unfortunate habit.” Lumis hummed in acknowledgment, his hand running over the smooth, midnight blue coating on the speeder’s surface. “You have fine tastes, my Lord.” the man said as he drew closer. “Those are 22-B Nightfalcon speeders. Top of the line, versatile, room for a passenger and some cargo space, it’s repulsors allow it to reach an altitude of twenty meters and reaches top speeds of nearly five hundred kilometers per hour.” He drew up proudly when the Sith nodded approvingly. “All four come with the ship, my Lord. Naturally.”

“Naturally...” Lumis muttered, his eyes darting toward the sound of rapid footfalls coming from the back of the ship, and a moment later, Anakin came flying out of the hallway to latch tightly on to Lumis’ arm, his small, thin body shaking with excitement.

“It’s a good ship!” Anakin bubbled excitedly, brushing his hair out of his face and grinning at the Sith. “Everything we talked about before and more. Solar ion engines, a class 1.0 hyperdrive, so it’s faster than we thought, military grade shields, twin turbolasers beneath the wings, it’s just...” He took a rapid breath and clung tighter to Lumis’ arm, and the Sith could feel the boy’s heart humming. “It’s so awesome, Master! Better than anything the Jedi have!”

“Better than the Nubian Class Queen Amidala uses?” Lumis asked softly, and Anakin’s mouth drew into a thin line as he thought, the attendant looking at him with nervous, expectant eyes.

“We...have to see the rest of the ship first,” Anakin said slowly, eying the Sith’s face to gauge if it was the right response, and from the way his lips curled with a slight smile, Anakin decided he said the right thing. “But the mechanics are...very nice. Brand new. Probably more advanced than the Nubian.”

“Is there room for modifications?” Lumis asked, and Anakin nodded excitedly, nuzzling against his chest and clinging tighter to his arm, and the Sith absently pet back the curling hair and placed a swift kiss to the top of his head, quietly praising the excited boy and smirking when he felt the small body flush with warmth as he clung closer. “Well?” Lumis drawled to the beaming attendant. “You heard my omega. Show us the rest of the ship.”

“Of course, my Lord!” the man said, swiftly sweeping back toward the boarding ramp and pressing a button on the wall, the doors of a lift sliding open with a smooth hiss. “Please, after you.”

Pulling Anakin along with him, Lumis stepped into the soft blue lighting of the elevator and closed his eyes as the attendant stepped in and the doors sealed, the soft, smooth hum of the ship’s mechanics engaging a soothing, relaxing sound of perfect craftsmanship. For just a moment, Lumis felt he was back home on the Umbra, the purr of the engines so like his own stealth ship that when the doors opened and he looked put into the hall, he felt a pit drop in his stomach at the sight of unfamiliar halls, fine and elegant as a ship made for royalty should be, but not his beloved custom ship.

The moment they stepped into the hallway, Anakin banked hard left, tugging on the Sith’s arm as he hurried toward the front of the ship, passing by two doors on either side of the hall before they stepped into the cockpit, the omega sighing in contentment at the same moment Lumis did. It was beautiful, the transparisteel viewport wrapping around the sides of the helm and brightening the sleek, modern consoles and the four command stations with natural lighting. Anakin clung tighter to Lumis’ arm, uncertain if he was allowed to touch anything as Lumis ran his hand over the central console, the pilot’s seat, the communications array, felt the hum of energy beneath his fingertips, and he sighed in contentment, tuning out the prattling attendant as he imagined himself piloting this ship. With the omega tugging upon his arm, Lumis gently nudged the boy toward the console, an excited whimper spilling from his lips as he reached out a shaking hand and lightly brushed his fingertips over the buttons and switches, a bright smile on his face as he looked up at the Sith.

“It’s beautiful, Master,” Anakin whispered excitedly. “The finest ship I’ve ever seen. All these systems are very advanced, she’s going to handle like a dream. I bet she looks beautiful out among the stars...”

“I suspect you’re right,” Lumis muttered, collecting the boy’s hand in his own as he turned back toward the beaming attendant. “Show me the rest.”

The attendant began babbling excitedly, rattling off information about the features and construction of the ship that Lumis only half paid attention to as he followed at a leisurely stroll, the breathless omega tugging excitedly upon his arm with each new room they walked into, though the Sith Lord was absorbed in his own thoughts as he examined the ship. A moderate sized bedroom right behind the cockpit and a bathroom just across the hall, for the pilot, Lumis thought, until he saw how well and finely furnished they were, rooms for personal guests of the royal family, not crew. 

Each room was finer than the next, the spacious office, calm and peaceful as a workplace should be, one Lumis thought to be a fine place for meditation as well as work. An expansive dining room with a long, carved table and chairs to match and expensive tableware, a fully stocked kitchen in the next room big enough for several chefs to craft a banquet meant for royalty. Across the hallway, taking up nearly the entire ship’s starboard side, was the master bedroom, large and elegant, the walls and furniture in the rich, dark red wood that lined the interior halls and rooms of the luxury yacht, the bath attached more a spa than a bathroom, equipt with a sauna and hot tub in addition to a large, walk-in shower. It was no warship like his Umbra was, but with a few adjustments, a few aesthetic changes to the hull and interior, this ship could almost feel like home.

“One last thing, my Lord!” the attendant said excitedly, waving for the Sith to follow, Lumis’ attention snapping away from his surrounds and to the tall, excited man in the hallway and the awed omega on his arm, little Anakin’s eyes wide with silent wonder as he looked around at what must have been the most opulence the slave had ever seen in his life. Pulling the boy closer, Lumis nodded and followed the attendant back to the lift, and stepping inside, the attendant pressed the button to take them further upwards.

When the doors slid open, Lumis found himself stepping into a massive, singular open room running nearly the entire length of the ship, a massive space surrounded by panoramic, transparisteel windows that completely covered the top of the high, sloping domed ceiling, letting in all the light and sights of the port and would no doubt make anyone up here feel as though they were walking among the stars when the ship was in flight. A lounge with large, comfortable armchairs and sofas were situated among the front of the observation deck, with a full bar at the back containing a wall of the finest wines and liquors and a massive, clear water pool built into the deck, and even Lumis couldn’t help but stare in awe at the place.

“Anakin...” Lumis whispered to the boy, the formerly tight grip now loose in his dumbfounded shock. “We’re going to have to fetch Aestus before we leave.” The omega nodded absently, a wide grin spreading across his lips as the attendant excitedly wrung his hands.

“The ship is to your liking then, my Lord?” he asked. “You’ll take it?”

“I will...” Lumis hummed, giving the observation deck another sweeping gaze and an approving nod, the hand at his side twitching slightly as the attendant was slammed to his knees, his hands clutching at his throat. “You have been of great assistance to me. Your previous transgressions have been forgiven.” Lumis looked at the man, a faint smile tugging on the edge of his lips as he took his lightsaber in his hand. “You’ve avoided a slow, agonizing death, and for that, I congratulate you. You can thank me now.”

“T-thank you, my Lord...” the attendant gasped, his eyes wide as he watched the hilt of the lightsaber fly past his face when Lumis tossed it, and with a snap of his fingers, the blade ignited, the weapon spinning through the air as it was called back to the Sith Lord’s hand, the red blade hissing as it effortlessly sliced through the attendant’s long, thin neck, the head dropping to the ground as the body slumped over and fell to the floor with a soft thud.

“Come now, Anakin...” Lumis said softly to the boy, his face hidden in the folds of the Sith’s robes and trembling violently as he casually returned the saber to his belt. “Let’s fetch Aestus. It’s time I returned you home.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glare has finally remembered to link the wonderful art for this fic that Calyss has done!  
> [An Empire of Flames](http://calyssmarviss.tumblr.com/post/171499060989/commissioned-by-icsek-lumis-aestus-and-anakin)  
> [What's Better than One Obi-Wan](http://calyssmarviss.tumblr.com/post/172421837767/calyssmarviss-commissioned-by-glare-gryphon)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glare and Icse are very sorry for the delay. It's entirely our fault and Kur has threatened us with bodily harm for said delay. We are slackers of the worst kind and far less reliable than our fearless leader. 
> 
> With that said. Ta da!

The ship during takeoff was everything Anakin had ever imagined and more, a mechanic’s dream, the purr of engines barely noticeable as a background noise. Lumis allowed him to sit in the cockpit with him to watch the takeoff, pleasing him to no end even if he wasn’t allowed to touch anything. Their jump to hyperspace once they’d cleared the planet was uneventful and if he’d not been watching the stars, almost imperceptible in feel due to the high end dampeners. Lumis seemed to be inordinately pleased as well, an upwards tilt to his lips not leaving his face through the entire flight process.

It felt good to be able to see the stars again. Even better to watch them move across the bow of a ship. He'd known it couldn't last forever, but he wished Lumis could've waited five more minutes before he wanted to go elsewhere.

“Come along, dear, we should go see how poor Aestus is settling in.” Lumis said, offering his arm that Anakin leapt up to accept lest the Sith became impatient with him.

Their walk through the ship was almost leisurely, more like a stroll through the gardens than the focused, quick walk there'd been on planet. Each feature of the ship was like a flower that Lumis had to stop and smell, explain the little things to Anakin and wait for his awe and compliment. Not that it was difficult, not when every nut and bolt was practically something to drool over on a mechanical standpoint alone. It was a disappointment when they finally came to the quarters Lumis had locked Aestus in after dragging him off their original ship.

Anakin expected the alpha to be furious about being locked in a room while the omega was allowed to accompany Lumis. At the bare minimum he expected Aestus to be irritated, prowling his room until someone let him out. The alpha was still weak from his wounds, but they were healed. He'd been perfectly able to walk from their old ship to the new one, even admire it some to Lumis’ preening. Then again, he hadn’t protested when he’d been locked in the room either. Maybe the savorium he’d given him to help with the pain had a lingering effect?

Lumis didn’t seem to find his placid behavior odd, though some of that could be explained by the fact that the Sith didn’t know Aestus nearly as well as Anakin did. The Sith took a seat on the luxurious couch in the quarters, patting the side next to him for Anakin to join him. Anakin sat down quickly, a squeak escaping him when Lumis pulled him tight against his side.

“Aestus, why don’t you come join us? I have some questions for you.” Lumis called, not even looking to see if he was obeyed, merely expecting his command to be followed.

There was some grumbling and a sigh, but within a few moments Aestus was sitting across from them on the lounge. He looked less placid than he had before and more grumpy though he didn’t bat an eyelash at his omega curled up with his twin. “What questions?”

“Oh, this and that. Since I’m stuck in this… world and not my own, there are things I need to know. Let’s start with Maul.” Lumis’ voice was light in tone, but there was an undercurrent of an edge to it that made Anakin shudder. The name Maul was one Anakin had never heard and he wondered who they were to make Lumis hate strongly enough that he could nearly feel it as his own.

“Maul?” Aestus scoffed, “That weakling? I killed him long ago when Sidious had put us in training together. There was only going to be one Apprentice and I wasn’t about to let it be him. I brought his head as a present to my Master.” He sat back into the cushions as if he was currently unaware of the flare of rage coming from Lumis while it felt like it was going to burn Anakin alive.

“Was Sidious pleased?” The rage was back under control and Anakin relaxed into the warm body next to him while he remained silent. It was far better for him to be seen and not heard by either of the men.

Aestus shrugged nonchalantly though his gaze didn’t meet Lumis’, “Of course, it was merely a test.”

“Of course.” Lumis said smoothly, “And how were things between you and Sidious? When did you officially become his Apprentice?”

“He took me into his home in the countryside of Naboo not long after the Jedi abandoned me. Treated me like a son in the beginning, began training me in how to call the dark side and wield its power. After a couple years he pronounced me ready and that is when I moved to a more… specialized facility and met Maul. At first I thought he was to be a sparring partner, but when I learned that he was also training to become Sith, that’s when I killed him.” Aestus grinned, one full of teeth that made Anakin flinch. It was the same grin that he had before his more sadistic moments towards Anakin. “I became strong and fast, mastered each weapon my Master put before me, defeated every training simulation in the program.

“That’s when he gave me my first mission. I killed Jedi Knight Darius, proved to my Master that I had indeed killed Obi-Wan Kenobi and any loyalty to the Jedi. When I returned to my Master, that’s when I became his Apprentice, when I shed the name Obi-Wan and became Aestus.” Pride showed through Aestus, his shoulders more square and a warm thread of pleasure pulsing through their bond.

Lumis laughed condescendingly, wiping the smirk off Aestus’ face, “Knight Darius? The cripple? I imagine he was hardly a challenge considering he never applied himself to the martial aspects of the Jedi. He was practically a scholar, any half grown padawan could’ve beaten him.”

Snarling, Aestus glared at Lumis, rising angrily from his seat, “I never said he was a challenge, only that I proved my loyalty to my Master and the Sith!”

“Sit down, Aestus.” The Sith commanded and Aestus obeyed though he looked confused by it. Lumis grinned, pulling Anakin’s head down into his lap to play with his hair, “Savorium, dear, is a slaver’s drug. Meant to make slaves more compliant and obedient. You’ve been dosing pretty high so I imagine the effects will linger for a few days yet.” Anakin practically purred in his lap, Lumis’ fingers soothing and gentle in his hair. “Now, Aestus, I still have more questions for you about Sidious.”

Anakin tuned their conversation out as Lumis began grilling Aestus over events and people, picking Aestus’ brain about any inconsistencies in the timeline compared to the one he had come from. It was clear Aestus’ lack of knowledge about galactic events displeased Lumis, his fingers occasionally yanking his hair instead of petting it. He was content there with them tuned out until he caught the name ‘Palpatine’ in their conversation.

“-Palpatine persona to the public?” Anakin missed the first part of Lumis’ question.

“I never visit him when he’s Palpatine. We have a set meeting place in the lower levels at a warehouse Sidious owns through a series of subsidiaries and separate secured comms for when I go to Coruscant. Unless it’s an emergency, I’m never to contact him unless it’s a preset time so as to not interfere with his Chancellor duties or public persona. If there’s an emergency, it’s just a short burst of a coded pattern and he will call me at the earliest opportunity.”

The discovery of Anakin’s friend Chancellor Palpatine being the Sith Lord Sidious, Aestus and Lumis’ master, and orchestrator of so many terrible things stunned Anakin. Chancellor Palpatine had always been a friend to him since he’d arrived from Naboo and had turned into a confidant of sorts. He’d always been kind to Anakin and offered guidance when he’d been frustrated by Qui-Gon holding him back from progressing further in his studies. Knowing he was a Sith Lord and responsible for the creation of Aestus… It made his heart and head hurt, but most of all he needed to warn the Jedi somehow.

“How often are your check-ins? When was your last one?” Lumis tapped his head and Anakin realized he had tensed up with the reveal. Unsure if he’d displeased the Sith, he looked up slowly but Lumis only smiled predatorily at him. It wasn’t sexual as it had been before, far more sadistic and evil, as if he’d enjoyed shattering Anakin’s opinion of Palpatine. Probably he had, his hatred for Sidious/Palpatine nearly palpable in the room.

“Right before our first meeting is the last time I spoke with my Master about either killing or capturing you. Check-ins are usually at three week intervals. Why?” Aestus’ voice was laced with suspicion despite his still relaxed posture.

“Nothing to worry your pretty head over, dear. Now, when are you expecting his next check-in?”

Aestus shrugged, “Anytime, I guess. My check-in is past overdue.”

“Hm. And the warehouse that you meet him in, which level is it on? What address?” 

“The fifteenth block of level thirteen-thirteen. In an abandoned industrial district.” Aestus looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he answered it anyway. Must be the lingering effects of the drug as Lumis had said. 

“Ah, yes, I know the one. At least some things haven't changed. Hmm.” Lumis stopped petting Anakin's head and patted his ass. “Anakin, why don't you go reward Aestus for being a good boy. I have things I must attend to.” Anakin started to whine but the noise was cut off by a force grip around his neck. “Did any of that sentence imply that it was a request?”

The grip loosened and Anakin shook his head vehemently, already getting up and stepping towards Aestus, the alpha having near the same predatory grin as Lumis had earlier. It made Anakin’s insides twist with fear, but not as much as he feared Lumis. He was trapped between two terrifying beings, but there was a clear winner in who scared him more. 

“I'll come see you lovebirds in the morning. Ta ta!” Lumis waved cheerily as he left and the door secured shut from the outside. 

When he felt large hands enclose around his waist and a hot breath on his neck, Anakin welcomed them and leaned into the broad body of his alpha. He would follow his Master’s orders, he was a good boy too.

 

—-

 

There was something unsettling about the quiet of the room around them, the stillness of the ship despite its many moving parts. Maybe it was how smoothly things ran, after weeks aboard the sluggish Stealthipede, or maybe it was the way Aestus’ skin crawled with the first symptoms of withdrawal. On the inside, he was burning, but the air around him was frigid with the presence of the Dark. A vastly uncomfortable sensation, which could be relieved by another dose of the Savorium stored carefully away in the quarters Aestus currently shared with his mate, had he not sworn off the drug once the initial high had worn off.  

Instead, he fidgeted uncomfortably in the copilot’s seat in the cockpit of the yacht, gaze flickering between the streaks of passing stars in hyperspace and the motionless form of his twin as the man sits in the captain’s chair. One might think the other sit asleep for his stillness, for the deep evenness of his breath, if not for the way the Force swirled around them like the ice storm Aestus had once found himself trapped in on one notably terrible mission years prior. No, Lumis was lost in the torrents of the Force, searching for something, though for what, Aestus did not know. He, himself, wouldn’t dare to touch the Force as it was then. Not that kind power—that kind of Darkness.

But the silence in the room only lasted so long, the stream of the Force broken by the sound of a comlink coming to life with a sharp ringing that echoed through the cockpit. There was only ever one person that called him, the smugglers and dealers who kept his larders full under strict orders of silence, never to reach out unless he’d made the first contact. If someone was calling him, it could only be his Master. His Master, who gave him orders to fetch Lumis and return. His Master, whom Aestus, caught up in the chaos of Lumis, and Qui-Gon, and Mandalore, had completely forgotten to contact and update about the situation.

He clenched his palm around the small device, hoping to silence its ringing before it was noticed, but only served to slightly muffle the chime. Lumis’ golden eyes were drawn from the void beyond the transparisteel, attention dragged from thoughts he had shared little of over the passing days, and settled on the alpha.

“What is it, Aestus?” he asked, and while there was nothing outwardly suspicious about the question, something in Aestus’ gut churned uncomfortable with the at the thought of telling the truth. Of Lumis knowing just who was on the other end of the line.

The man could read minds; it was futile to try and deceive him. Still Aestus smiled, a weak thing, stuffing the hand with his com behind his back as though it would make the problem disappear.  “Nothing,” he replied, hearing the strain in his own voice and knowing even as he spoke that Lumis wouldn’t believe it.

The other sith’s brows furrowed, suspicion lacing his voice as he hissed, “Don’t  _ lie _ to me, Aestus. Who is calling?”

While the high of the savorium Anakin had shot him up with had since worn off, the drug’s effects were still strong enough that he found himself compelled to answer. He tried to fight it, bit his tongue, clenched his jaw, but Lumis needed only to quirk an expectant brow for the words to come tumbling out. “My Master.”

The other Sith fell still at the mention of their Master, eyes taking on a vaguely glassy appearance as the mind behind them worked. “Do you intend to let it ring?”

“Well I can’t just  _ pick it up _ !” Aestus yelped. “You know how he is. If he asks about you, and I tell him anything less than the truth, he’ll know I’m lying to him!”

“You’re the Sith Apprentice, and you’ve never lied to your Master?”

Aestus shrugged, hunching awkwardly in on himself and desperately wishing the com would stop ringing so this conversation could be over. That this could all be forgotten with a missed call, not to be returned until Lumis was free from this world and back where he rightfully belonged. It would take time, but he had gone on Sidious for longer. It would be just another failure in the long line of his Apprenticeship. 

“More like...not telling him the whole story,” he said defensively. “He was very insistent that I never lie to him.”

Lumis sighed, rising from the captain’s chair and holding out an expectant palm. “Let me answer it, then.”

“Then he’d definitely know something is wrong!”

His twin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Aestus…Give it here,” he commanded, but the alpha stumbled from his own seat and backwards a few paces toward the door, the strength of his fear giving him the will to resist the savorium’s lingering effects. As though he actually had somewhere to run, should he choose to. As though they weren’t trapped in this ship for some time yet as they made their way through hyperspace and back toward Mustafar.

“No!”

“That wasn’t a request,” Lumis growled, and Aestus shook his head when he felt the first brushes of Lumis’ presence against his, as though the action would help to throw the other Sith from his mind. Between the Force Bond they’d formed on Malastare, the lingering influence of the savorium, and this new connection he couldn’t quite understand nor knew the cause of, it was nearly impossible to keep the man out. Not when his shields were so weak to his twin already, and Lumis had such a gift for entering and manipulating the minds of even the unwilling.

He scrambled for control, pressing back against Lumis’ intruding presence for as hard as he could, but the sharp pain he’d come to associate with Lumis’ invasion of his mind overcame him as he struggled to maintain his composure. His legs went weak from the pressure, folding beneath him, and Aestus dropped to the ground. The comlink fell from his hand, skittering across the floor, before it finally came to rest some feet away.

“Hurts…” Aestus whined, curled in on himself and clutching his head, the agony of resisting Lumis’ power as though it were tearing his mind apart. Through the stars of his vision, he watched Lumis’ boots pass, the other Sith crouching to collect Aestus’ comlink from where it had fallen.

“I know, baby,” Lumis sighed, returning to the alpha and uncurling his clenched fingers, depositing the small device into his palm before closing his hand around it once again. He rested a hand on Aestus’ cheek, cold in comparison to the flush of his skin. “Just give in. Let go, and it will stop.”

The words seemed to echo through his head, as though they were spoken both in reality and directly into his mind at once. They brought with them a sweetness that brought his will to its end, the fight draining out of him like water through a sieve. What harm could it be really, to stop this foolish resistance? He had already fought against Lumis’ control once before, and lost then, too. What hope did he have of winning this time, now that he was so bound to his strange twin? Why did he even bother to try?

The more he thought about it, the more the pain receded, Lumis’ presence filling him up until his own thoughts were nothing but background noise to the wants and desires of his Master. He drew himself to his knees, or maybe Lumis wanted him on his knees, and finally answered the ringing of the comm.

The speakers crackled to life, picture flickering as Sidious’ image sprung into being. Lumis kept clear of the frame, but his interest was unmistakable as he studied the small projection of this version of their Master. Younger than his own, though otherwise unchanged. “Ah, Aestus,” Sidious drawled, “so nice of you to finally answer my call.”

“My Apologies, Master,” Aestus replied, ducking his head. “I was occupied with—”

“I have no interest in your sniveling apologies, Aestus; I only care for results. You’ve missed your check-in; what news do you have on the matter of this rogue Darksider?”

Aestus cringed, unprompted by Lumis’ control, but the lie came easy with the aid of the other Sith. “...I’m afraid he still eludes my grasp, Master.”

Sidious huffed, contempt heavy in his tone. “I suppose I should no longer by surprised by your continual failure of your duties, Aestus. You always have been worthless as an Apprentice.”

The rush of humiliation, the shame which tinged Aestus’ cheeks, was all his own. Strong enough to be heard, even through the noise of Lumis’ presence in his mind. Confusion, and perhaps some affront on his behalf. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” Aestus weakly replied. “I assure you I am working on a plan to—”

“You would do well to get your dick out of whatever young thing has distracted you this time and find this interloper, as I commanded you! First Skywalker, and now this darksider...”

“I did find him on Malastare! We fought, but he got away from me. He went down in Mandalore’s atmosphere while I was pursuing him. I am still working on a way to extricate him from their grasp.”

“I suppose he is the the responsible to that hideous new thing across your face, then?” Sidious sneered. “Perhaps he has done me a favor in destroying the looks you value so highly. Perhaps without your vanity, you will finally get your brain out of your knot and focus on—”

“Just because you’ve never stuck your dick in anything doesn’t mean the rest of us are subject to your standards!” Aestus snarled, the sudden swell of humiliation and rage enough to throw Lumis’ presence clear from his mind. Aestus’ fear he could overcome, but his anger was an inferno that consumed everything it touched. “I will call you when I have the bastard in custody,” he declared, then ended the call with a hard jab to the comlink’s controls.

For a moment, it was quiet in the cockpit as both men considered the contents of the call. It was nothing unexpected for Aestus, accustomed as he was to Sidious’ verbal abuses, but Lumis seemed to be dwelling on the abrupt end to their conversation. “That was rash,” he said. “I had wished to ask him about the progress of his plans in the Senate.”

“He would not have told you anyways,” Aestus sighed, scrubbing at his face with the heels of his palms. Lumis’ presence in his mind, and its abrupt exit, had left him with a sharp, lingering pain behind his eyes and a bone-deep weariness. He desperately wanted a cigarra, or a hit of some slick, but none were available to him in his present situation. “It is not my place to know his plans.”

Lumis clicked his tongue dismissively, offering a hand with which to help Aestus to his feet. “It’s shameful,” he said, “that he does not see to your training as he should. You are his Apprentice.”

“Only in title,” Aestus admitted as Lumis tugged him upright. “We both prefer it that way. I don’t see him, he doesn’t see me, and his credits still keep my pockets full.”

Lumis didn’t immediately let go of his hand, grasp lingering as he studied his twin. “You’re no better than a slave to him. Or the prostitutes he claims you so fond of.”

“I am no one’s slave!” Aestus snapped. “Do not speak of things you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” Lumis challenged. “He is allowing you to waste your talents, to rot your flesh with the drugs you have such an affinity for, when you could be so much more if he only cared.”

“I had my chance,” Aestus hissed, “and I blew it when I killed Maul.”

“Any other Master would have applauded such ambition in their young Apprentice.”

“I do not have any other Master,” Aestus replied, tugging his hand from Lumis’ and turning away, “I have mine. This world is different from your own, Lumis. You cannot change or control the way things are.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lumis murmured and Aestus turned around to face him once more.

“I’m sorry?” He asked. “What did you just say?”

Lumis raised a brow, appearing unphased by the glower Aestus had fixed him with. “Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t consider it. What it would be like, without him.”

Aestus growled, the very thought making him nauseous. He had tried to survive on his own once before, after the Jedi had cast him aside. “I would be  _ nothing _ without him. Just another junkie on the streets.”

“Or you could become so much more!” Lumis insisted, stepping up into Aestus’ space once more. The alpha gave ground, backing away from the slightly manic look in the other man’s eyes. “You know it’s the truth.”

“I know you’re insane,” Aestus hissed. “Whatever you think you’re planning, it won’t work.”

“You’ll see,” Lumis replied, his fervency unshaken by the alpha’s derisive tone. “Now get out, I have work to do.”

Too tired to keep up the fight, Aestus did as he was told. It was not like Lumis would have the chance to enact whatever wild scheme he was planning, anyways. They would return to Mustafar, focus on finding his way home, and all his crazy ideas of changing the galaxy would be forgotten.

Or at least, he hoped they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates should return to their normal schedule. Hopefully. Kur might kill us if we do not. Comments will certainly help us get on our asses and write, not gonna lie. Hint hint. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

As the deadline of their arrival on Mustafar loomed, drawing ever nearer with each streak off a passing star in the spirals of hyperspace, Aestus found himself pacing. Passing through the halls of the luxurious yacht in short, agitated strides, he marveled at none of the beauty that once captivated his mate and Lumis. Instead his thoughts lingered on his strange, not-quite twin, as they had often since Lumis’ arrival in this universe. The man’s ominous last words echoed like a warning in the back of his mind. _You’ll see_ , he’d said, but what did he mean? Was he planning something he had yet to share? Did he truly intend to challenge their Master?

Aestus paused in his pacing, hissing as he leaned into the wall and rubbed at his aching temples. Ever since their encounter on the Stealthipede, there had been a persistent ache in his mind that no amount of rest, food, or water had been able to cure. At first, he written if off as a side effect of the drugs Anakin had given him. They were new, and potent, but they were all but flushed from his system now. He should not be feeling any further effects. Withdrawal, perhaps, but that tended to manifest in other ways in the few rare instances his supplies were delayed on their arrival.

Perhaps it was the stress of the days since Lumis’ arrival. First his encounter with the Jedi on Malastare, then the Mandalorians, and finally Sidious’ threatening call. Or perhaps it was something else entirely, some trick of the Force at play or a lingering injury from his fight with Lumis, unseen and unhealed when the man patched him up. Aestus had begun to suspect, however, that he wouldn’t know for some time yet. As long as Lumis was still in play, there would always be something else around the bend. He was a rock thrown into the pool of the Force, creating ripples that grew to waves and further still to tsunamis that left destruction in their wake. Lumis had to be returned to his own time and place before he had a chance to pull any more ridiculous stunts, like destroying an entire village, or crashing his ship into the surface of Mandalore. But first, Aestus needed to know what the other Sith was planning.   

Had he not been leaning against the wall, Aestus might not have noticed the subtle shudder of the ship around him. Everything ran almost infuriatingly smoothly, and he was faced with the sudden realization that his deadline to discover what Lumis held up his sleeve may be closer than he thought. If that rumble was what he thought it was, they may already be approaching Mustafar’s atmosphere. Sure enough, when he found the nearest transparisteel pane, he could see the distant red glow of Mustafar. He would have to act quickly, if he wished to catch Lumis before the other Sith became too invested in whatever he was plotting to be stopped.

When Aestus arrived at the cockpit, he found Lumis seated in the captain’s chair, as he had been through most of their journey. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the sound of Aestus’ arrival, but his attention quickly returned to the approaching planet.

“I see you’ve noticed our drop from hyperspace,” he noted absently. “We should be landing at your complex very shortly.”

“Yes” Aestus sighed, and stepped hesitantly into the room. Around him the Force was burdened with a strange calm, like grief over something that had yet to come to pass. It made Aestus’ skin crawl even more than the withdrawal. He did not know what Lumis was mourning, but it did not bode well for their conversation. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about before we do, actually.”

“And what would that be?” Lumis asked. Aestus wished he would turn around, so they could have this discussion face to face. He read nothing more from the other man, leaving him unsure how to approach such a delicate matter. Lumis was unpredictable, sometimes cool and calm, and others quick to provoke. Aestus would prefer to settle the matter peacefully, only just healing from their last brawl, but he would do what he had to. He had already decided.

“It’s just...when we last spoke, you said some quite interesting things about our Master. The idea that you could actually fight Sidious was...quite humorous.”

“Yes, well...perhaps my survival is an amusing notion. Unfortunately, I will still have to take my chances.”

An awkward silence fell over the room as Aestus considered those words. “I’m sorry,” he finally chuckled, the tone of his voice indicating that he was not, in fact, finding this funny at all. “I could have sworn you just said you actually intend to challenge our Master. Which would be insane.”

Lumis glanced back over his shoulder again, frustratingly unaffected by Aestus’ growing anxieties. Instead, he just looked sad, and Aestus realized that what he was mourning was very likely his own demise. “I believe we are both aware that I am, perhaps, touched by madness, Aestus,” he drawled, and turned around as though intending that to be the end of their conversation.

But Aestus would not have it, neither Lumis’ careless dismissal of his own life, nor his swift end to the conversation. He strode forward, catching the back of the chair, and forced his mirror to swivel around to face him. Aestus was met with a small flicker of surprise, but nothing more, and Lumis’ continual nonchalance only served to make him want to rile the man. Anything was better than this oppressive melancholy.

“Madness or not, you can not go after him!”

Lumis’ lip twitched with frustration, his eyes narrowing as the first signs of a molten red began to bleed into their edges. “I can, I will, and I must,” the older sith hissed before standing abruptly from his seat, forcing Aestus back from where he previously towered over him. He paced toward the transparisteel, watching the glow of the planet slowly come into focus. Their journey was nearing its end, and Aestus could feel the pressure of his deadline more acutely than ever. “I have no other options left.”

“Yes, you do!” The alpha beseeched. “You can stay on Mustafar with Anakin and I. We can keep looking for a way to send you home. There are still dozen of artifacts in my collection that we have still to research. Surely one of these could provide us with the answers we need!”

“No, Aestus, I cannot! You stupidly told Sidious that I escaped you. How long do you think it will be before he comes looking for me himself?”

“And leave his precious on high within the Senate?” Aestus snorted, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the concept. “He’ll wait, Lumis. He’ll wait, and watch, and sneer at my incompetence until I beg for his aid. We have time; I have ensured that.”

“You have ensured nothing! Do you know what is happening in the galaxy right now, at this very moment? This week, this month, this year? Let me fill you in: a starship went missing near the Monsua Nebula; Cestus Cybernetics put down a mining strike; later this year, Jedi Master Yaddle will be killed, with Shaak Ti taking her place within the Council. These are nothing, Aestus, in the grand scheme of things. They do not affect our Master’s plans, but I do. Sidious has all the time in the world, and given your incompetence, he can afford to take matters into his own hands. He will wait, Aestus, but only so long.”

Aestus growled, feeling the sharp chill of Lumis’ presence within the Force against his own fiery spirit. The temperature of the room was steadily dropping, but it was better than the impassive attitude he had previously maintained. “You threaten nothing but our lives! You’re a mad dog, trying to bite the hand that feeds him, and to do so would be the end for you. Either he kills you, or he takes you and breaks you until you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror anymore. Then, when he’s done, he will come for me for my deceit.”

“There is nothing your Master can do to me that my own has not done a thousand times over. My Sidious is older, crueler, and stronger by far. I am the best shot this galaxy has of seeing your own does not reach his full potential.”

“And what then, Lumis? What will become of you, when he dies? What will become of me? He is all that I have! You may think yourself strong enough to stand on your own, but I am not so foolish. I still need him!”

“For what!? What has he ever done for you but keep you on a chain? You are no better than a slave, Aestus!” Lumis scoffed, turning to face him. “You have contented yourself to becoming the very thing you swore you would never be when the Jedi Order cast you out!”

“You don’t understand,” Aestus replied, but found he could not meet Lumis’ eyes. Instead his gaze settled on the folds of his robes. Impeccably clean, not a wrinkle to be found, in sharp contrast to Aestus’ own unkempt robes. New and beautiful, where Aestus’ had been sewn and hemmed and patched more times than the alpha would ever admit. “I’m not ready yet. I still have so much more to learn.”

“And you never will be, should you remain under his thumb. Can you not see that he is using you? That he is never going to train you? Look at yourself, Aestus! You are only six years my junior, and you cannot hold a flame to my power. Can’t you see I’m doing this for you? For everyone? He must be destroyed!”

“You can’t—” the alpha started, but was cut short when Lumis interrupted him.

“I will hear no more of your complaints, Aestus,” he said, and spun back to the controls at the sound of a soft chime. “My mind is made up.”

They were beginning their descent, Aestus realized, watching over Lumis’ shoulder as the stars were consumed by the sulphurous layer of ash and smoke that hung in Mustafar’s atmosphere. His time was up, and still Lumis was convinced that challenging Sidious was his only option. The fool was going to get both of them killed, and Aestus would not abide by it. If Lumis would not listen to reason, then he would have to do things another way.

Something stung in the back of his mind as he covered the short distance between them, grabbing the other Sith by the back of his robes and yanking him away from the controls. Lumis swore, twisting in his grip until his robes tore free, spun to face his attacker. Aestus didn’t have time to think before Lumis lashed out, a surprisingly strong punch from the weaker man leaving him reeling.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lumis snapped, and with a gesture of his hand, pinned Aestus to the wall at the rear of the cockpit, the bitterly cold ice in the Force shuddering with warning around him as a knife of red hot fury and murderous intent sliced through the chill to pierce his senses. “Aestus…” Lumis purred pleasantly, a wide, empty smirk spreading slowly across his face to stain his impassive features as crimson red fury bled into the gold of his eyes. “Tell me if I am mistaken, but do I sense in you your intention to slay me?”

“You are sick, brother,” Aestus hissed despite himself, his tongue loosening even though he struggled to keep his silence, a futile endeavour under the influence of the other Sith Lord’s control and the increasing intensity of the sharp pain cutting through the back of his mind. “You yearn for destruction, and I am more than capable of delivering the end you seek. No need to bother our Master when I am more than capable of being your executioner.”

“That so?” Lumis mumbled, the anger within him once again freezing into cold, mournful indifference as the emotion drained from his face. “You stay there,” he said, the pressure holding the alpha still not letting up even when he returned his attention to controlling their descent. “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”

___________________

 

The yacht’s landing struts hadn’t even touched the ground when the cargo bay door opened and Aestus was thrown violently from the ship, tumbling hard upon the rusted durasteel hangar floor and groaning when he slid to a stop. Already he could feel his elbows and ribs bruising from the impact of the Force slamming him against the ground, the attack so sudden and so violent he could do nothing to soften the blow or recover from it once he felt himself falling. Anger welled up inside him, hot and raging through his blood like fire as he watched the ship gently set down, the landing ramp sliding effortlessly to the ground, and all Aestus could think about was his omega still inside the ship, his Master unawares on Coruscant, and the reflection of himself that threatened to ruin it all.

He was, without question, going to murder Darth Lumis.

The Force whipped around him, his robes snapping at his heels as he stood, his skin already slick with sweat in the heat of Mustafar’s blistering air, his teeth grinding together as he focused his rage on the lithe form of the other Sith Lord as he descended the ramp, calm and collected, his hands folded neatly behind his back. This...suicide mission, this ridiculous notion Lumis had to stand against Sidious knowing full well his chance of survival was sickeningly low wasn’t just foolish, but it stood to put Aestus and everything he had built at risk. He was supposed to collect Lumis and bring him to Sidious, or kill him, neither of which he had done, and were Lumis to simply waltz into his Master’s office, Sidious would know Aestus had experienced one of his rare failures, and failure was always met with pain and suffering. Or worse, Sidious subdued Lumis, and his powerful twin replaced him, leaving Aestus without a Master and the life he provided, merely prey for the Lords of the Sith, a loose end that needed to be swiftly tied.

And that he couldn’t allow.

“You’re being difficult, Aestus,” Lumis said calmly, smoothly, and Aestus snarled furiously against the sudden wash of relaxed compliance lazing through his mind, shaking his head to clear the feeling and grasping harder to the bitter rage he felt. “Stay out of my way, and nobody needs to be harmed.”

“No!” Aestus snapped, snatching his lightsaber from his belt and swiftly igniting it, the deep thrum of the red blade echoing through the empty space of the hangar and his fury growing when Lumis simply rolled his eyes. “I will not allow this! You want to die so badly, let me end your life now so you don’t go and ruin mine! I promise you, I’ll make this quick.”

“You believe you can defeat me?” Lumis scoffed, his golden eyes narrowing to look in disgust at the furious man before him. “Do not be a fool. You cannot win.”

“I am bigger than you!” Aestus growled, the blade spinning slowly in his grip as he stalked closer, his predatory gaze raking over his twin and assessing the threat he posed, his resolve wavering slightly under the buzz in his mind and the disturbing lack of fear the other Sith showed, Lumis only looking at him with almost disappointed disinterest, an expression he had seen all too often on Darth Sidious’ face. “I’m stronger than you! I have seen what you can do, you half starved, insane stick of a man, and I won’t be caught off guard like I was in our fight on Malastare!”

“You think we fought on Malastare?” Lumis asked, the sneer on his face slowly becoming a superior smirk as he chuckled softly and shook his head. “Oh, brother mine, that was no fight. And while you may indeed be stronger than I, my power has never been in the physical.”

The blazing heat around him was suddenly snuffed out, the volcanic air becoming arctic as a chill went up his spine, his rage quickly shifting to fear, and Aestus snarled in fury, reaching out to grasp hold of the retreating flames of the Force while he could. His hand tightening on the hilt of his lightsaber, he crouched down, readied himself, and pushed off the ground in a full sprint toward the other Sith Lord. He had barely taken his second step when a bolt of energy almost seemed to spring out of the floor before him and lance through his chest with such force that he was thrown backwards, his body striking the ground and leaving him to writhe in pain.

His eyes closed tightly against the feel of his screaming nerves and the involuntary contractions of his muscles, Aestus grit his teeth and tried to rise to his feet to face the man once again, though his body would not obey as it suffered under the burning feel licking across his skin. With a whimper, he managed to peek through squinting, tear-filled eyes at his hand and the lightsaber that lay just out of his reach, his fingers spasmodically twitching as arcs of blue electricity danced across his seared flesh. Lumis had struck him with Force lightning, and Aestus hadn’t even seen the man move to do it. He hadn’t even known the man was capable of such a feat. He surely wasn’t, Sidious had never taught him how to harness the Force in such a way as Lumis’ Master had clearly done.

He could feel fear creeping back into him, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Aestus felt as though he had made a terrible mistake, and almost felt as though he was looking up at his Master when he looked upon Lumis.

“Are you done?” Lumis asked coldly, watching impassively as Aestus twitched on the ground, his hand extending to call his lightsaber, the hilt rattling on the ground as the alpha’s command of the Force shakily grasped for it. With an irritated scoff, Lumis rolled his eyes and held his hand palm up before him, the lightsaber instantly flying to him and delicately landing in his grasp.

“I should have killed you!” Aestus growled, his voice cracking with pain as he struggled to push himself to his knees. “I should have let the artifact drain the life from you, I should have left you to the mercy of the Mandalorians!”

“You’re right,” Lumis said softly, a touch of bitter melancholy in his voice that made Aestus’ chest tighten with an uncomfortable feeling that he couldn’t place. “You should have.”

With a snarl of pain and frustration, Aestus rose to his feet, not given the chance to catch his balance before his feet were swept out from under him, his body floating in the air for a moment before he was slammed against the ground hard enough to dent the durasteel. The wind knocked out of him, Aestus gasped for breath and winced at the feel of his ribs shifting unnaturally beneath his skin, sending pain shooting through him with every movement. He could feel broken, jagged bone catching on skin and muscle with each breath, each twitch, each jerk of his battered body barely recovered from the effortless slashes of insane Lumis’ knife when they departed Mandalore nearly two weeks ago.

“Listen closely...” Lumis snarled viciously, cold rage finally breaking through his previously indifferent features. “Be a good boy and keep out of my way. You cannot defeat me. Don’t even try it.”

“I seem to remember locking your crazy ass in the cargo hold of the shit ship,” the alpha hissed through teeth clenched together in pain as he staggered once again to his feet and stubbornly ignoring the warning cold that gripped the Force around him. “I was more injured then, and I still beat your sorry ass. Threw you around like you were nothing, you omega-looking son of a bitch!”

“I don’t remember such a thing.”

“Yeah, that’s how badly I beat you!” Aestus shouted, grasping hold of the pain that shot through his body and using it to fuel his rage, the rush of power flowing freely through him as the Dark Side came to his call, his lightsaber torn from Lumis’ light grip and igniting the moment it touched Aestus’ palm. “A thousand enemies have fallen in my wake because they underestimated me, and you are no different! I will not be denied what I have fought so hard to keep, not by you, not by anyone!”

Lumis did nothing, didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t ripple the Force with his touch, and the bold, brash confidence fueled by rage and pain that had powered Aestus faltered with uncertainty, something within his mind tugging harshly at him with every move he attempted to make toward the other Sith Lord, as if he was tethered by a chain to the ground and could go no closer. Something was holding him back, keeping him from attacking his reflection, each violent, wrathful thought that entered his mind discouraged away by a rush of pain like the lash of a whip. Eyes narrowed and lips curled into a fierce snarl, Aestus glared at the other Sith, calm and collected as always, neat and immaculate as compared to Aestus’ own sweaty, bruised and disheveled state, which only served to make him more angry.

That rage quickly turned to fear when Aestus caught sight of movement behind Lumis, his gaze swiftly darting away from the Sith Lord to focus his attention on Anakin, the omega creeping out of the ship, crouched low and trembling as he attempted to escape to a hiding place. He had, in his fury and panic, forgotten about his hapless, defenseless mate, images flashing through his mind of the bone-deep hatred Lumis possessed for the boy that was and was not Anakin and what grave danger he had put not just himself, but the frail teenager in by standing against his powerful twin. Without moving, without so much as looking away, Lumis took hold of the Force, the gentle, firm command sending the Dark Side rushing to do his bidding, and in an instant, Anakin was lifted off the ground, a panicked squeak cut short as the Force wrapped around his neck and squeezed, the boy hanging writhing in the air as he was pulled forward to dangle beside the Sith just out of Aestus’ reach, though fear kept the alpha still.

“Pay attention, dog,” Lumis, said softly, almost sweetly as he finally moved to thread his fingers through the curling tangles of Anakin’s hair, pressing his lips to the scar that marred the boy’s face. “Time is not on my side, and I am not at liberty to waste it, though I will not hesitate to make you watch as I peel every inch of your sweet boy’s skin from his body if you do not kneel before me.” Aestus didn’t move, his chest heaving through ragged, painful breaths, his eyes fixed upon Anakin as he struggled, and Lumis’ hand tightened in the boy’s hair, a choked whimper slipping through his constricted throat. “Well?” Lumis asked, a cruel smile on his lips as he watched turmoil grip the alpha. “Kneel, boy.”

There was nothing else to be done. Growling in his reluctant submission, Aestus slowly lowered himself to his knees, his head bowed and his hand so tight around his saber he could feel the grip’s ridges cutting into his palm. The tension in the air released, the weight of the Dark Side lifting as Anakin coughed, fearful whines and whimpers spilling from his lips as he was released from the Sith Lord’s grasp, the boy in a heap by his fine, black boots and too fearful to move, his eyes wide and fixed upon the dangerous predator that loomed above him.

“You aren’t going to try and stop me or get in my way, are you, sweet thing?” Lumis asked, and Anakin rapidly shook his head, is thin shoulders trembling and his hands shaking as he clutched tightly to the frightening man’s robes.

“N-no, no, Master!” Anakin said frantically, wringing the thick fabric between his hands and swallowing hard as he looked up into fearsome, golden eyes. “I’ll be good, Master, I promise, I’ll be good...”

“I know you will...” Lumis drawled, stroking back the boy’s hair and running his thumb over his trembling lips. “Run along now, Anakin. Show this filthy, rabid cur how to behave. Hide yourself, and don’t come out until I’ve gone.” Anakin didn’t have to be told twice as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him past Aestus and toward the back of the hangar, slipping among stacks of crates and boxes that stored the supplies from the last delivery. With the omega out of the way, Lumis’ gaze fell back on the kneeling Aestus, eyes narrow and cold and angry as he took a menacing step closer.

“I’m warning you...” Lumis hissed, his voice darkened by the rising of the Force that swept in to bolster him. “Don’t get up again.”

A deep, menacing growl reverberated in Aestus’ aching chest as he glared up at Lumis, his lip curling up in a snarl to expose his teeth, but as commanded, he didn’t move, his shoulders tightening with stress and the strain of his anger, the red lightsaber steady in his hand. Aestus watched Lumis as he examined him, the glowing blood red in his molten eyes slowly beginning to recede as the cold did, the warning chill in the Force still present even as the pressure lifted, and seemingly satisfied with something that Aestus could not see, Lumis turned away from him, the quiet utterance of ancient Sith upon his lips that Aestus could not comprehend.

Looking over his shoulder and glancing at the face of his omega peeking out from the safety of his fort of crates, Aestus turned his furious gaze back at Lumis as his eyes raked over the mess of scrap and machines that cluttered the hangar. If he left, if Lumis left to go to Sidious, no matter the outcome, Aestus’ life would be ruined, if he was even allowed to keep his life at all, and with Anakin tucked safely out of the way, there was little left for him to do, and never had he possessed a greater shot than this one at destroying his powerful twin.

Hand planted on the ground and tightening his grip on his saber, Aestus shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and took off running, his teeth grit in rage when Lumis spun to face him far too soon, and with a ferocious cry, he reeled back and threw his lightsaber, the blade spinning rapidly through the air with a high pitched shriek. Lumis would avoid it, he knew, but that small delay would have been enough for Aestus to bear down upon him, enough time to overpower the smaller man and beat him to death before he could once again take hold of the Force.

This time, Lumis moved to channel his command of the Force, uttering a hissed curse as he reached out and flicked his wrist, the lightsaber speeding toward him cutting a hard left as it circled around and shot back toward Aestus. Snarling as his weapon was turned against him, the valuable time he had gained wasted in an instant, Aestus quickly assessed the situation and decided he could keep the advantage if he kept moving. Unwilling to waste his moment, Aestus leaned back and effortlessly slid underneath the blade as it spun overhead, the burning plasma cutting so close it singed his hair, but he was otherwise untouched, a triumphant grin on his face when he realized he was upon Lumis without a second wasted.

Aestus didn’t have the chance to right himself before Lumis’ open hand pressed against the alpha’s broad chest, scoffing at the feel of his twin’s long, almost delicate fingers upon him in the foolish decision to engage physically with a man that could snap his frail body like a twig. The triumph lasted only a moment, Aestus’ chest seizing in panic and pain as he watch electricity spark along Lumis’ arm and through his blood, lighting up his veins with eerie glowing light, and with a pulse of power, Aestus felt it travel through that delicate hand directly into his own body.

He slammed hard against the ground as agony speared through him, barely able to hear the sound of his own screams over the sharp crackling of lightning, that deadly hand pressed hard to his broken chest as Darth Lumis loomed about him, his eyes blood red and furious as he pressed down upon him. And Lumis felt heavy, heavier than such a thin man had any right to be, so heavy Aestus felt at though a spike through his chest had bolted him to the ground, so heavy he could feel his unbroken ribs bending and his sternum cracking under pressure, so heavy that no amount of kicking of his legs could dislodge him, his thrashing limited by the pressing weight. His shaking hands reached up and wrapped around Lumis’ forearm, but still he could not move him, only felt electricity course through his arms as if he had grabbed hold of a live wire.

Aestus wasn’t sure when it had stopped, could still feel the burning touch of Lumis’ hand upon his chest even as he saw the man predatorily circling him, could still feel electricity dancing through his body and making his muscles twitch and contract, his heartbeat rapid and irregular as if it were trying to escape his crushed chest cavity. Everything felt slow and sluggish, lights flashing sporadically behind his vision as the neurons in his brain misfired in a panic of pain and foreign electrical impulses. Whimpering softly, he tried to move, tried to get up once again, but he was too weak, the Force lightning having drained the last of the fight out of him.

“I told you...” Lumis growled, the sound low and rough and feral, the usually calm, controlled man nearly coming unhinged in his wrath, the claws of the Dark Side dug deep within him as it howled and roared it’s master’s command. “I told you not to get up again!”

A sickening crack echoed through the hangar as Lumis stomped down hard on Aestus’ leg, his heel almost effortlessly snapping the bone of his shin, and Aestus stared with eyes wide with nausea and surprise more than pain as blood soaked through his pant leg and pooled on the floor, the jagged bone poking through muscle and skin and thin fabric as his leg involuntarily twitched, his foot dragging limp and unnaturally upon the ground.

“Do you see what you made me do!?” Lumis said manically, leaning down to grab Aestus’ face between his hands, his thumb digging into the healing scar upon his cheek. “I told you not to get up, why did you have to go and get up? Why did you have to make me do this?!” Aestus whimpered softly, weakly moving beneath the Sith Lord and reaching up with shaking hands to grab at the man’s wrists, what was meant to be a hard grasp to tear the smaller man off him loose and lazy, more an affectionate caress of the hands that had wrecked him than anything that resembled the will to keep fighting.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Aestus,” Lumis said, his ragged breathing slowing as he stroked and smeared blood over the alpha’s cheek. “All you had to do was stay down, as I said, and I could have just left. Now...” he said as he drew up, his hand clenching as arcing bolts of electricity surrounded his fist, and Aestus whimpering pitifully beneath him as he tried to wriggle away. But it was not for him, the barrage of Force lightning instead shooting across the hangar and striking a wall of tangled wires and fuses, the lighting flickering as the power surged, everything going dark for a moment before the emergency lighting kicked on. The electronics smoked and burned, wires melted together and circuit boards hopelessly melted, the board not just including the compound’s main power cells, but the primary and secondary communications array.

“Now,” Lumis said again as his attention returned to Aestus, “I have to hurt you. I cannot have you following me, dear Aestus, nor can I have you contacting Sidious to warn him. I’m sure you understand.” Before Aestus had a chance to whimper a response, Lumis stepped down upon his other leg, another wet snap echoing through the air as his other leg was shattered. A cold sweat broke out on his skin, each gasp for breath agonizing as his broken ribs were forced to expand, and Aestus stopped fighting the pain, allowing shock to numb him and cloud his vision as he watched Lumis turn from him.

“I am sorry it had to end this way, Aestus,” Lumis said quietly. “Truly, I am.” Without another word, Lumis strode for his ship, his long stride carrying him up the ramp, and within moments, he was lifting off the ground and cutting through Mustafar’s atmosphere en route to Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see why we needed that semi-fluffy chapter now? Poor boys, how we torture them so.
> 
> As always, comments are our lifeblood and we write more when we get more!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh, look, guys! Another chapter finally made it's way up. Was this chapter TECHNICALLY done on time, as per our release schedule, and ready to be posted a while ago?
> 
> ...uh, no, not really. But it was close! And it has since gone through some revisions to make it better, and believe me, it is much better for it. Does it look like there's actually a plot moving in this dumpster fire? Could these horrible children, perhaps, be growing as characters and becoming better people for it? Do they, just maybe, get to be happy?!
> 
> Don't hold your breath, kids.
> 
> Enjoy, lovelies, and buckle up. Things gonna get messy in just a sec.

Anakin watched from the safety of his hiding place as the loading ramp of Lumis’ yacht slowly rose, the ship’s engines firing up shortly thereafter. At another time, he might have marveled at the grace with which the vessel rose taking smoothly off from the landing pad and easily rocketing up toward space. Instead, however, his gaze remained fixed on the unmoving mass that was his bondmate.

He had not been able to bring himself to watch, but he could hear Aestus’ screams from the shelter of the crates, and could feel the echo of the alpha’s pain in the back of his own mind. He’d shaken, terrified, as he awaited to hear the sound of his mate’s demise. As he awaited the agony of their death tearing their bond apart. Lumis was not a terribly forgiving man, and Aestus had disobeyed his every order. But the pain he’d expected never came, and when the yacht was far enough away that he trusted it would not return, Anakin slipped from his hiding place and bolted across the platform to where his mate laid. 

“Aestus?” He gasped, sinking to his knees at the alpha’s side. He was grateful for the clothing Lumis had provided, as he could feel the heat of the platform’s durasteel even through the thick fabric. “Aestus can you hear me?”

The alpha did not respond, but Anakin could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He was still alive.

Anakin tried not to look too hard at the bones that protruded from the alpha’s legs, nor the pool of blood slowly pooling on the platform. He tried not to breathe too deeply in the smell of burned hair and flesh. He tried not to think too hard on man who had caused his mate’s horrific injuries for such a simple disobedience.

Instead, he focused on getting Aestus back into the safety of the compound. Despite the voice in the back of his mind whispering that he should simply let the man die, Anakin knew that he could not allow it.

Aestus would not die without facing justice for the things he’d done to Anakin, and to Qui-Gon, and to the Jedi Order. Anakin would see to that.

But first, he needed to get Aestus into the compound. There was no way he could carry the alpha nor could Aestus walk even if he were awake. He looked for something, finally spying a hovercart hiding behind a few of the cargo boxes in the corner. It took almost all of his strength, but he managed to get Aestus on it, grateful the alpha was passed out as it probably would’ve caused great pain. Or maybe he was more grateful that he didn’t have to hear his screams of pain again.

With Aestus on the cart, he realized he didn’t know anything about the compound except the few rooms he’d been allowed in and almost no way to orient himself. He pushed him into the compound and out of the harsh climate, hoping that Aestus did, indeed, have an actual medbay and med droid to fix him. There was no way he could treat something this complicated, his education suited more to basic field medicine than bones sticking out of legs. 

Inside, there were still signs from when it’d been part of an actual mining facility, mostly eradicated, but some parts of it were still legible. One looked like it said ‘medical facilities’ with an arrow pointing left. With no other clues to follow, he secured the hovercart into park before heading down the hallway to the left. 

The hallways were surprisingly clean and well lit, more maintained than he had anticipated them to be considering the outside appearance. Though, maybe it shouldn’t of surprised him since Aestus had kept the bedroom nearly immaculately clean with what some would consider a fastidious nature. It was one thing he couldn’t complain about his captivity, Aestus was very hygiene oriented.

Several of the doors he tried along the hall were non-functioning, a few empty of anything more than storage crates. He tried all the ones he came across until he opened one and saw the stark white walls of a medbay and a GH-7 med droid still on its charger the optical lenses dim instead of the faint glow as if it were actually charging. Cursing to himself and wondering if maybe Aestus was going to die anyway, he started checking the droid over trying to see what was wrong with it and if it was fixable.

It only took him about five minutes to figure out what was wrong with the droid, a simple disconnect of the battery wire, and within moments it was booting up. Surprisingly for the age of the mining facility, the droid looked like a relatively recent manufacture, at least within the last fifteen years, and in good shape. With the systems booting normally, he wondered why Aestus hadn’t used it the few times he’d come back with an injury.

“Hello. Do you require medical assistance?” The droid’s voice was soothing and masculine, just as it was programmed. Anakin’s relief nearly made him sag.

“Yes, but not me. Aestus needs help, he’s hurt and I don’t know what to do. Follow me!” He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement from the droid before he took off back down the hall towards where he’d left Aestus on the hovercart near the entrance. Unlike his trip to the medbay, it took him barely a few minutes to return, the sound of repulsors right behind him letting him know the droid had followed as he commanded.

“This human is in need of medical assistance.” The droid stated after running a quick scan.

Anakin nearly rolled his eyes and probably would’ve if there wasn’t that sense of urgency still thrumming through him, “That’s what I said. Now can you fix him?”

“According to my scan, the human male has four broken ribs, two broken legs, and is exhibiting the symptoms of neurological damage. He is in need of immediate medical assistance.”

“Can you fix him?” He asked the droid again.

“I am a GH-7 medical analysis unit, capable of diagnosing and providing medical assistance to a wide range of beings.” The droid’s photosensors turned towards Anakin.

His frustration was mounting, “Can you provide medical assistance for him?” He pointed at Aestus.

“Certainly, but he must be relocated to the medbay. Follow me, please.” The GH-7 turned and left them, leaving Anakin to push Aestus back to the medbay. He was starting to see the reason that Aestus preferred to treat his own wounds than deal with the droid. 

Looking down at the still unconscious alpha as he pushed him towards the medbay, he still wasn’t sure why he was saving him. Maybe it was part of the bond or maybe his natural instinct to nurture and care for his mate despite the abuse. He both wanted justice and to protect his mate from that same justice, just as a part of him wanted to see him suffer and the other part wanted him happy. It was confusing and at this point, too much to think about. After all, Aestus could still die no matter what he does and a part of him knows he’d be sad at his death.

The droid was waiting for them in medbay, its permanently fixed face the epitome of patience. “Place the human on the exam table.” It gestured to the metal table in the middle of the room.

There was no way he could actually lift Aestus up all that way onto the table, not without any help. “Can you help me lift him?”

“I am sorry, but my repulsors are not sufficient to compensate for his weight.”

“Why can’t medbays be equipped with hoists?” He grumbled, trying to figure out if he could override the safety functions of the cart enough to be able to push the alpha onto the table that way. “You can’t just treat him on the hovercart?”

“I am sorry, but the patient needs to be on a properly sterilized table to perform the procedure.” GH-7 didn’t sound apologetic at all.

Anakin glared at the droid before yanking off the control panel to the hovercart to override the safety sensors. Even if he did manage to successfully rewire it, there were still two dilemmas he faced. The first was that he had to keep his hand on the throttle just right to keep it at the right height. The second was that he wouldn’t be able to reach the throttle from the ground at the height it needed to be. The only way he could do both was to stand on the cart, but then he wouldn’t be able to push Aestus off the cart. There was no point in asking GH-7, he already knew the answer he would get.

When no other solution presented itself, Anakin mentally apologized to Aestus before throttling the cart up to the height needed, standing over Aestus’ head. Once it was where it needed to be, he pushed it a bit higher and forced it to tip to the side, effectively dumping Aestus right on the exam table. He winced at the sound of the body hitting the durasteel, but there’d been no other way to get him there.

At least GH-7 started working on Aestus once he was on the table. Anakin returned the hovercart to the ground and watched the droid work. First, Aestus’ clothing was cut from his body by one of its tools, then it began cleaning the open wounds. The fact that Aestus didn’t wake up through any of it, especially his fall, worried him.

“Should he have woken up through any of this?” He asked GH-7, both fascinated and repulsed by the way the droid scrubbed at the wounds to free them of any debris.

“It is better that he does not as I do not have any sedatives.” It answered calmly while it continued to work.

“What about when you set the bones? Do you at least have some painkillers?” All the drugs Anakin knew about were on the ship Lumis had left in.

It finished cleaning the final wound before it answered him, “I have no supply of pain medications, he will have to endure it.”

Before he could respond, the droid switched on it’s bone saw attachment and lasered a line right above Aestus’ knee. “What are you doing?!” He shouted in alarm at GH-7.

The saw switched off much to his relief, “Amputating the patient’s legs, it is the best course of treatment in the current circumstances.”

“What?! Why?!” The breaks didn’t look bad enough to him to warrant amputation. Certainly not as a first resort.

“I do not have the necessary supplies to adequately set the bones without a potential weakness.” 

“And you don’t see having no legs as a potential weakness?!” There was definitely something wrong with the droid’s programming to think of amputation as a first option.

“The recovery time with a prosthetic is greatly shortened in comparison to naturally healing from a break.” GH-7’s calming voice replied, grating on Anakin’s nerves.

“Do you have prosthetic legs in your supplies?” If it had those, but not painkillers and sedatives, there was something very wrong with the droid.

“Not at this facility. It was my previous Master’s preference to replace all failing or inadequate body parts with prosthetics. That is my primary programmed specialty.” The droid doesn’t sigh, but it’s as close as a droid could get to one, “The facility here is woefully inadequate in comparison to my previous Master’s.”

Anakin had no idea how to respond, his mind still trying to wrap around someone willingly becoming some sort of android freak. It was one thing to have to become one through circumstance, entirely another to replace parts just because they get a little banged up. No wonder Aestus didn’t trust GH-7, he didn’t either.

“No amputating anything.” He commanded GH-7, forcing himself to calm down, “What supplies do you need?”

The droid took a moment to process his request, checking through the storage built along the wall and its internal storage before reciting a list that Anakin had no hope of remembering. He interrupted it a minute into the recitation, “What essential items do you need specifically to repair him?”

“Bone adhesive, skin adhesive, bacta patches and gel, sedatives and high dose pain relievers suitable for humans since you are insistent they must be used.” How the droid managed to sound uppity in its voice, Anakin didn’t know.

“Do you know if there is somewhere nearby that I could acquire those items?” He wasn’t familiar with Mustafar and didn’t quite trust Aestus to be telling the truth about there being nowhere nearby for him to run to.

“I am unsure if it is relevant, but my data indicates some of the current stock of medical supplies have a shipping destination of a Damask Holdings facility located within six kilometers of the current location to the northwest. You might be able to purchase the necessary supplies at that location.” 

“Do you have a map you can display?” Unless he could find a device with tracking amongst the literal junk he’d seen so far, there was a chance he could end up wandering the barren lava filled wastelands of Mustafar until he died from exposure or dehydration.

“I am a GH-7 medical analysis unit, not an astromech.” It replied haughtily.

At that moment, Anakin was very tempted to dismantle the droid with his bare hands and use it for spare parts, but he needed the droid to fix Aestus. “Fine, but I need the coordinates.” He looked for something to write on and with, finding a bandage wrapper and surgical marker in a random drawer. 

After writing down the coordinates, he mustered up all the authority he could pull together and stared directly at the droid’s occular sensors. “While I am gone, you are only to keep Aestus stable. No amputation. Only the bare minimum to keep him alive and comfortable. If he wakes up, you have permission to inform him I’m looking for the supplies.” He waited until GH-7 acknowledged him and repeated his commands in full before leaving to look for his own supplies.

The compound was much larger than it looked and Anakin was forced to waste precious time searching for the supplies he needed. Eventually he found an unencrypted still functioning datapad, if several series outdated, with operational tracking features, a large pack, and enough food and water supplies for at least a day just in case. 

While he ate and drank in preparation for his journey, he plugged in the coordinates and mapped his journey based on the landscape shown. The facility was only six kilometers if he had a ship to fly over the large lake of lava between the two places, but on foot it would end up being closer to ten. If he were in good condition, the journey on foot would’ve taken him around two hours. In his current condition, he would be lucky to make it at all. 

Again, he wondered why he was doing this. Why he was going out of his way to save a mate who had been mostly cruel and horrible towards him. He had proof Aestus had lied about there being nowhere to escape on Mustafar. It might even be that there was a ship at the facility he could steal or a sympathetic being that would help him.

It sounded just as unlikely in his head as did an actual rescue coming for him.

Finishing the ration pack and water, he stripped out of the nice, heavy clothes that Lumis had given him and changed into some of Aestus’ workout gear. They didn’t fit at all, but with some long pieces of cloth he made from a ratted out cloak, he managed to get them to fit and help provide some additional protection. At least he had the nice boots from his shopping excursion with Lumis to protect his feet. Wrapping another piece of fabric around his head and pulling on some speeder goggles to go over it, he almost felt like he was gearing up for a race than a trek across terrain that would put Tatooine to shame.

The actual trip was even worse than he’d imagined, the terrain nearly unforgiveable with its large rocks and uneven ground. Not to mention the hidden ground vents that exploded with sulfur fumes at unpredictable locations and intervals. By the time he made it to the other facility, he was exhausted, sore, and overheated with less than half his original water supply remaining.

If there was one consolation to the journey, it was that the facility seemed to be populated only by custodial droids with no other life signs besides his own. It didn’t make him any less careful in not being seen, but at least droids were predictable with set routines and patrols. The downside of it being strictly droids was that he was unable to access any of the layout schematics without a droid to interface for him. Instead, he had to rely on the signs that proved to be completely unreliable as the facility had at some point been retrofitted to function as an encrypted server farm of some sort.

After several near misses by security droids, he finally found the facility’s medbay. There were two med droids in the corner, the much preferred 2-1B style, both on their charging station in standby mode. He was careful not to disturb them as he scavenged through drawers and cabinets, unsure exactly what was what, and grabbing a bit of everything that looked like it might be what he needed. He took as much bacta as he was able to carry, the valuable gel weighing his pack down considerably.

The trip back was worse than the trip there was despite knowing the terrain better. It was slow going, weighed down by the supplies as much as he was exhaustion. When he finally saw their compound, he nearly wept with relief. His last few steps felt like the hardest, the GH-7 wisely keeping quiet at his entry. He set the bag on the counter and gestured towards it before sliding to the blessedly cold floor against his overheated skin. Naked would probably feel even better, but that would be too much work in his opinion. 

“I have the necessary supplies to repair his legs, should I proceed?” The droid asked him, hovering a few feet from where he was still sitting on the ground.

“Repair as in set the bone and stabilize it, right? Not amputate?” Anakin felt like he had to make sure the droid wasn’t slipping one past him.

“Yes.”

“With sedation and pain medication?”

“As you insist, though as he’s not shown signs of waking in over twelve hours under my care, I do not believe it necessary and a waste of valuable resources.” GH-7 sounded miffed, but Anakin didn’t care.

“Just do it.” He told the droid tiredly, sitting up a bit straighter to monitor the procedure.

GH-7 was quick and efficient, he had to give him that. Within ten minutes of setting the bones back with a crack that made Anakin gag, it was finishing adhering the skin before moving to the other. Once his legs were finished, the droid started placing bacta patches over the burnt parts of his body, using the gel for the more minor abrasions and burns.

“I have completed setting and repairing the bone in addition to treating his numerous other wounds. He will be unable to bear weight on either of his legs for at least two weeks but he should make a full recovery with adequate time and physical therapy. By my estimation, he should be waking within a day, though I cannot guarantee that to be wholly accurate with the damage to his nervous system.” GH-7 reported.

Anakin nodded, “Continue to monitor. Wake me if his condition changes.” Finally assured that Aestus wouldn’t die on him, he laid down right where he was on the floor and fell asleep in seconds.

 

***

After stopping quickly at Eriadu a day out from Mustafar, Lumis was speeding through hyperspace aboard his luxury yacht en route to Coruscant. The stop was a necessary one, both for the purpose of acquiring much needed essentials, and to give the scheming Sith Lord a chance to check in on one of Chancellor Palpatine’s most valuable assets. Of all the most frustrating thorns in his side the Republic employed during the Clone Wars, two stood out above all the rest, the perfect union of Force fueled passionate fury and cold, calculating hunter instinct cutting an almost effortless swath through the every battlefield they visited and very, very intentionally foiling nearly all of Lumis’ carefully laid plans the moment they came together.

One half of this deadly partnership was Anakin Skywalker, the stalwart Jedi Knight that here, in this world, was trapped now on Mustafar, his shining, exemplary Jedi career unintentionally and brilliantly ended by Aestus’ blundering revenge, the hapless teenager’s excessive potential left to atrophy beneath the weight of his constant rapist. That alone was enough to lend Lumis a sense of ease, his early entry into the timeline ensuring that Skywalker wasn’t just no longer a threat, but hadn’t even been introduced to the elements that would have made him into the dangerous, honed weapon the Republic would deploy against him.

The other half of this partnership was Wilhuff Tarkin.

Ruthless and cunning and forged in the brutal, untamed wilds of his home world, Sidious had his sights on Tarkin long before Lumis had fallen to the Dark Side and become apprentice to the Sith Master, long before even the Battle of Naboo. At this junction, this galaxy was approximately four years away from the Clone Wars, which meant Tarkin was already a staunch and loyal ally and friend of Palpatine, currently serving in politics at the insistence of the Sith Master as the Governor of his home world, Eriadu, taking him away temporarily from his military career to develop in him the skills that Sidious saw essential for the role he had envisioned for him.

If he actually managed to kill Sidious, Lumis had no faith in the Jedi to actually be able to find him, their ability to feel the Dark Side so pathetically atrophied that he knew, even now, he could walk among them with no fear of detection, which would leave them hopeless in successfully tracking the dark tides and ripples caused by the Sith Master’s murder. Nor did he hold any faith in the Republic’s judiciary to be able to successfully solve the crime, as turmoil in the Senate deadlocked every branch of the withering Republic, effecting even their law keeper’s ability to preform their jobs. But Wilhuff Tarkin, raised to be a cunning and clever hunter and tracker, could very well be a problem, especially if he felt motivated to take matters into his own very capable hands, which Lumis thought to be a more than likely occurrence.

If Tarkin happened to be on Coruscant, close at hand to Sidious, the course of action was clear. Tarkin needed to die.

Which was a shame, really, an unfortunate waste of an asset that Sidious had personally groomed himself, one that Lumis had seen himself in the tides of the Force within the currents of the future, a planet grasped in Tarkin’s hands that turned to dust at his will. It was...intriguing, a thing that Lumis had never quite been able to puzzle out the meaning of. He had hoped, in his own time, to capture the man and rife through his mind to perhaps gain further perspective on the visions that had plagued him, but the slippery Admiral always seemed to evade capture at the last possible second, his familiarity with traps and tactics perhaps the very thing that allowed him to detect when one was about to close around him.

Being unfamiliar with the man, both in this time period and in the way existing under this galaxy’s conditions would have altered him, Tarkin was something of an unknown element that Lumis was distinctly unwilling to contend with. Were he at hand, were he available to Sidious when it came time for Lumis to engage with this younger echo of his Master, he was uncertain what the Governor could bring in order to aid the Chancellor, or, at the very least, were he successful in committing the murder, he’d have the predatory Tarkin close on his trail, just as he had been during the Clone Wars. The Battle of Coruscant and Tarkin’s, quite frankly, brilliant showing during the battle aboard the Invisible Hand was still fresh in his mind, and a powerful reminder that the man was not to be underestimated, the ugly splattering of scars across his right forearm ensuring that the painful lesson would not be forgotten.

But Tarkin wasn’t on Coruscant. A brief look around the spaceport while Lumis was securing his essentials as his ship refueled revealed that Tarkin was, in fact, in residence at the Governor’s manor, present for a trade summit with representatives from the local sectors in efforts to make small, wild Eriadu relevant. For the briefest of moments, with his one time enemy so close at hand, Lumis was tempted to simply end any potential threat dear Wilhuff could come to possess. But the moment passed quickly. Information traveled faster than any ship ever could, and by the time he arrived on Coruscant, Sidious would be on high alert, and Lumis’ element of surprise would have been destroyed. 

More than that, Tarkin was far too interesting, far too valuable of an asset to waste, and, in the unlikely event that Lumis succeeded in slaying Sidious, Tarkin may very well become his own valuable asset in whatever it was that came after. Moreover, Coruscant was an eight day journey from Eriadu, and by the time Tarkin arrived to investigate the death of the Chancellor, Lumis’ trail would have been cold. No, it was better to simply let Tarkin be, and in time, should the Force will it, he would meet the man under terms that were, hopefully, more favorable than the current situation.

Now, two days out from Eriadu, Lumis knelt upon the ground, his eyes closed and his breathing deep and even as he meditated, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the vigorous workout he had just completed. Already, his body was beginning to fill out with the strong, lean muscles he had lost when he had nearly starved himself in his insanity. Slipping deeper into his meditations, he could feel the Force coiling around him and embracing him in its cold grasp, the power thrumming within him swiftly rejuvenating him for another session of intense training. Nearly his every moment was spent in preparation to face Darth Sidious, whether it be by conditioning his body, working through all his information to properly formulate a strategy, or entrenching himself deep within the Force. With only six days remaining until he went to face Sidious, Lumis left himself no time for sleep, only focused training and-

“Master...” a sweet, feminine voice said seductively, and a delicate, teasing hand upon his chest brought Lumis out of his meditation and back to himself, his eyes opening to look upon the spacious observation pleasure deck of his yacht, the blue and white swirl of hyperspace surrounding them through the panoramic viewports. The Sith Lord groaned softly when warm, soft lips pressed to his neck and shoulder, the delicate hands that had drawn him put of his meditation running down his sides and reverently stroking at the muscles of his stomach. His gaze lazily swept over the deck to land upon a the pale, naked figure of a thin, beautiful blond woman swimming within the clear water of his full length pool, the sound of her body moving the water blending together with the sweet moans of the woman behind him laving attention upon his body.

The much needed essentials he had picked up from Eriadu were just...far too sweet.

“Master...” the woman said again, pressing her bare breasts up against the Sith Lord’s back, and Lumis could feel the Dark Side flash hot with lust and desire that sunk down to roil tightly in his gut. “Come play with us, Master, you’ve been working far too hard...”

“Not now, baby, I have things to do...” Lumis drawled, catching the woman’s hand and pressing his lips to her palm. The disappointed sigh and the delighted trill of her laughter only made the need coil tighter in his stomach, a deep growl in his chest as he pulled the gasping, laughing woman into his lap and pressed hungry lips to her exposed throat. If he were to die, he would spend at least some of his time enjoying the taste of a couple of beautiful women and indulging the ravenous lust that tore through his chest. The two women that now traveled with him had come with him willingly, seduced by charm and wealth rather than the touch of the Force, though now, they existed under the Sith Lord’s sway, even if it was only minimally.

If nothing else, their presence and the indulgent purr of the blissful Dark Side quieted the yawning, gaping emptiness that tore across every fiber of his being through the intricate array of broken bonds that had been ripped from him when he was taken from his home. Even the anchoring bond he had unwittingly forged between himself and Aestus and Anakin felt dull and silent, the chains that linked them feeling slack and heavy in his hands when before, even the slightest tug allowed him to feel the life at the other end of the leash. Be it death or distance that made it feel this way now, Lumis was uncertain, and he was too nervous to tug hard upon it and find out which.

The woman righted herself in his lap, laughing softly as she pressed her lips to the line of his jaw and, intertwining their fingers together, brought his hand to cover her breast, the laughter in her throat becoming soft gasps of pleasure as Lumis growled, turning himself over to the blistering lust of the Dark Side as the beast snarled and snapped its desire to consume the willing offer. Lumis watched as the other woman removed herself from the pool and saunter over to kneel beside them and palm at his hardening cock and lazily slip her fingers inside the other woman’s slick hole, and she moaned wildly as she rolled her hips to feel it deeper, nipping at the Sith Lord’s ear and begging to be filled once again.

It was a simple enough request, one that Lumis was more than willing to indulge. He still had six days to prepare, six days to train and plan for his almost certain death. Six days left to live, and he’d be damned if he didn’t spend at least part of that time deep inside a beautiful woman. And if he was very, very lucky, if the Force was with him and he miraculously lived to see Darth Sidious slain at the end of his blade, he had six days to dream of what his Empire would be like. Six days, and unsuspecting Sidious wasn’t going anywhere.

__

For a moment, when he woke, Aestus wondered if Lumis hadn’t come to come to senses after all. The air around him was sterile and cool, unlike the strangling, sulfurous atmosphere outside the compound. There was no smell of burnt flesh, and while singed hair was unavoidable on a molten planet, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he he was expecting. He wasn’t bald, anyways; he could feel it brushing against the back of his neck. And he wasn’t dead, which was always a pleasant bonus.

Someone must have dragged him inside, and his thoughts first went to Lumis. Perhaps the guilt of his violent assault had caught up with him, or maybe he’d finally seen the error of his way and realized that a direct assault on Sidious would prove nothing but a fatal mistake. He must have returned, and yet when Aestus reached into the Force, the connection between them felt muted and distant. As though Lumis were still so very far away.

“You are awake,” a mechanical voice drawled, and Aestus startled, turning his head to find his old GH-7 hovering at his bedside. The droid’s eyes glowed ominously in the dim light of the room, and it held a unidentified syringe in one of its hands, the needle pointed uncomfortably close to his face. Knowing better than to trust any of the droid’s intentions, Aestus snarled, swatting at the offending object from its grip, and scooted as far from the thing as he could manage without toppling off the edge of the table. His broken ribs protest this small movement; they would have been most unhappy if he’d fallen.

“Get that away from me!” he demanded. “What the hell did you do!?” 

When he glanced down the table, Aestus could see his toes peeking out from the bottom of the covers, and it didn’t  _ feel _ as though anything was missing. However, knowing his unusual droid, it could have very well taken out an organ or two in a claim of the greater good. His dick was still there, when he groped for it through the blanket, and he sent a thanks to the Force or small blessings.

“It is only a painkiller,” the droid grumbled, collecting the vial from where it had fallen. “You are fortunate it did not inject the omega by accident. This is a much higher dose than acceptable for someone of his body mass.”

“Omega?” Aestus mused, peering over the edge of the table, careful to keep an eye on GH while he did so.

Much to his surprise, Anakin laid curled in on himself on the tile floor, arms wrapped around his narrow shoulders and his knees pulled up to his chest. The few layers he wore, along with a pile on the floor beside him, were covered in a thick layer of ash & soot that could only have been gained from wandering beyond the compound and out onto the planet’s surface. Had he brought Aestus in from the landing pad? And if so, why? Why had he bothered to save him, after all that he’d done? Even if his nature couldn’t allow Aestus to simply perish, why had he stuck around when he’d been given the perfect opportunity to escape?

“What happened?” 

“He journeyed to the nearby compound to find supplies,” GH-7 explained. “We were low on bacta and other necessities to stabilize your condition, as he would not allow me to amputate your injured limbs. He was overheated upon arrival, but now that his body has cooled, he requires covering.”   
  
“So get him a blanket, you idiot droid,” Aestus hissed, shoving at the machine’s broad head. While his stomach churned at the idea of GH left unattended for however long it took Anakin to journey across Mustafar’s moltenus terrain, he was touched that the omega had come to his aid. “You clearly know where they are.”

When GH had fetched the requested blanket and and covered Anakin to his mate’s satisfaction, Aestus settled back on the table and allowed the droid to inject him with his next dose of painkillers. He could feel the ache making its way back into his healing bones, and the fuss he’d made when he’d woken hadn’t helped anything. There was no point in making it worse, when Anakin could very clearly be counted on to help if GH tried something while he was out.

Aestus peered over the edge of the table as the drugs took their effect, watching the slow rise and fall of his omega’s chest through increasingly blurry vision. Perhaps he had misjudged Anakin’s worth. He had thought the omega weak, useless for anything but an easy fuck, but he had shown substantial strength and will in saving Aestus from an ugly fate. It was more than anyone had ever done for him, and as he slipped back into the grip of unconsciousness, he felt a strange warmth in his chest that he was unfamiliar with, but could, perhaps, get used to.

__

The tide of the Dark Side was rising. It was not caused by anything in particular, no dark rift, no awful event, rather by the natural flow of a Force that was increasingly edging toward darkness with the long awaited revenge of the Sith. But that was part of the problem. The tide was rising too quickly, too early, it was not yet time, and he was not yet ready, but the Dark Side, it seemed, had other plans. The Force, as always, waited for nobody. Not for the Jedi, and not for the Sith. In the end, it would be this that saw the Jedi destroyed, the protectors of the Light swept away by the storm of the Dark, too stubborn and too proud to evolve and change to fit the shape of the Force as the Lords of the Sith did. The Sith would rise with the tide. The Jedi would drown beneath it.

But not yet, Chancellor Palpatine thought, his eyes closed, his hands folded before him upon his desk as he dipped into the Force to survey the sudden change, to account for the new information, to adjust and plan, to develop contingencies for the many ways the future may unfold so that he may always remain before and above the machinations of those around him. So that he could direct the course of the future, influence into action events he needed to occur or sought to avoid. So that the Sith Imperative may finally see fruition under his guidance.

But even to him, things were murky, lines were blurred, and the many futures he saw in the waters of the Force were scattered and vague and ended far too suddenly. It made little sense. The rising Dark should have made his vision clearer, more precise, but Sidious was finding the Force even more mysterious and inscrutable than usual. He found his thoughts drifting to his apprentice, Darth Aestus, the dumb brute sent on a mission to investigate what appeared to be a particularly cunning and dangerous Darksider on Malastare, ordered to subdue and detain the creature and bring it to him for examination. Sidious was always on the lookout for new talent to replace his increasingly erratic apprentice, more so now than ever with the sudden disappearance of Anakin Skywalker.

But that had been weeks ago, and there had been no word from Aestus. Either the alpha had ignored his directive, which would not be the first, or the man was dead, and Sidious would be forced to go look for this creature himself. Any creature that could kill Darth Aestus was worth meeting and training.

His eyes flew open when he felt the Force suddenly twist and shift, the current swiftly torn from its natural course and flowing elsewhere before it faded into nothing, the Dark Side still and silent as if nothing was there, but Sidious knew better. There were dragons below the ice, the lack of the ripples and waves of their movement more telling than if the waters had risen up in cresting waves. Something, someone was here, announcing their presence by concealing it in a way that only the powerful could truly achieve, no doubt invisible to the Jedi who failed to see the subtitles of shadow, but Sidious saw it. He reached into his drawer and ran his fingers along his lightsabers.

His office door hissed open, and Sidious’ chest seized, his eyes flashing pale yellow when a man in a long black cloak strode in, his hood pulled over his head and shadowing his face, his fine black robes modeled distressingly close to the robes of the Jedi, if the monastic Knights would ever wear silken finery, his elegant black shirt lined in red piping and not one but three lightsabers attached to his belt. The man stopped in the middle of the room, a fair bit from the Chancellor’s desk, and surveyed the room before he reached up and pulled his hood back, and the unsettling feeling increased when Sidious instantly recognized him, though something was markedly off about him.

This man could have been Darth Aestus, should have been Darth Aestus, for the feel of his Force signature, but the similarities ended there. Where Aestus’ presence was wild and untamed and rocked the very flow of the Force, this man was focused and controlled, burning with frigid cold instead of blazing heat, directing the flow of the Force not with the obstruction of his power, but the hole he seemed to leave in it. His hair was more golden than red, much shorter than Aestus’ long locks and so carefully groomed it spoke of vanity. He was shorter, much thinner, his muscles lean instead of bulky, less brute and more civilized, but his eyes were wild, not the solid yellow of Aestus, but a brightly glowing gold spiked through with blood red that appeared to struggle for dominance of the man’s iris. 

But strangest of all, this man was scentless, not possessing the sharp tang of an alpha, the sweet aroma of an omega, the clean scent of the beta, nor any of the many different smells that accompanied the changing hormones that signified powerful emotions, fear, excitement, arousal, all non-verbal cues their sensitive noses allowed them to detect. But this man was nothing. His presence in the Force absent through deception, his scent nothing...this man, for lack of a better word, was null.

Silently, Sidious rose to his feet, not bothering to hide the lightsabers in his grasp. The man opposite him knew what he was, that much was obvious. Deception was unnecessary at this point.

“You are not Darth Aestus,” Sidious said slowly, carefully as he moved out from behind his desk, the hilt of his saber grating slowly against the finished surface in a deliberate scrape to draw attention to the weapon and intimidate the intruder. The man didn’t even seem to notice, that small, arrogant smirk upon his lips neither faltering nor fading as he took stock of the Sith Master, and despite himself, Sidious couldn’t help the pleased amusement that filled his eyes and tugged at his lips. “I can only assume you are the rogue Darksider that has captured the attention of the Jedi.”

“Just the Jedi?” the man that wasn’t Aestus asked, his voice accented like Aestus, but where his apprentice possessed a rough grow, this man’s voice was smooth and silken, the voice of a man that used words as his weapon, not his body. With a tilt of his head, the smug smirk on his face became a wide, genuine grin. “I believe you’re selling me short.”

“Perhaps...”

“But you assume correct, in any case,” he said, his arms spread as he theatrically bowed. “And you, my dear, are Sheev Palpatine of Naboo, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.” A devilish grin spread across his face, one that Sidious detected was not born of malice, but out of mischief, more playful than threatening. “The public face of your true self. Darth Sidious, Master of the Sith.”

“You have me at a disadvantage, friend,” Palpatine said slowly, his palm pressed against the hilt of his saber as his fingers drummed upon the table, his eyes carefully dragging over the man before him, piecing together everything he observed, the feel in the Force, the clues laid out before him that pointed to this man’s identity. “It would seem you know a great deal more about me than I about you.”

“And why should it be any other way?” he asked with a carefree shrug. “You’re the elected leader of the Republic. I’m no one at all.”

“Yes, it has been quite some time since Obi-Wan Kenobi existed here, hasn’t it?” Sidious asked, and instead of the snap of cold the accompanied the defensive, threatened Dark Side, the only thing rippling through the Force from this grinning Darksider was amusement. His assumptions had been correct. This man didn’t just look like Aestus, he was Aestus, displaced from another place and another time.

“You got me...” the smiling blond conceded, raising his hands before him and splaying his fingers. “Though if you insist on calling me Obi-Wan, I fear I must call you by a likewise name, Sheev.” Sidious scowled in disdain, and the younger man only laughed. “Unless you’d rather go by a different name.”

“I find there to be little point in deception at this point. You may call me Sidious, though you have not given me a name by which to call you.”

Again, he inclined his head to concede the point. “You may call me Lumis.”

“Lumis...” Sidious repeated slowly, as if tasting the name, feeling how it rolled smooth and easy off his tongue, and leaving his saber upon the desk, he took a step closer to the Darksider, curiosity and interest driving his examination of the enigmatic man. Thus far, he had proven to be articulate and cunning, the way he spoke slick and sly, which Sidious knew would make him difficult to pin down and even harder to follow to those not aware of the manipulative games he played. Though Sidious knew. These were the sort of manipulations he himself employed.

It was almost as if he had trained Lumis himself.

“I presume you are responsible for the recent events on Mandalore,” Sidious pressed. “The work you did there was magnificent, if not a bit ostentatious.”

“I’m surprised the Jedi would share that information,” Lumis drawled flippantly. “But then, I suppose there are benefits to being in close with the Jedi High Council, aren’t there?”

“I’m not as close as you seem to believe,” Sidious said in his slow, measured tone, the slightest hint of frustration resting in his voice that vanished into curiosity when Lumis simply smiled knowingly.

“No,” Lumis whispered. “But you will be.”

“You speak as if you know the future,” Sidious scoffed, his fingers steepling before him as he continued to examine the other man, his nostrils flaring slightly as he instinctually sniffed the air for a hint of his emotional state when brushing against him with the Force yielded only unreadable walls. The Sith Master hissed softly when he scented nothing, irritated at having forgotten that the strange man smelled of nothing, devoid of scent glands or the hormonal chemicals that could be detected by scent in the bloodstream, and judging by the slight, condescending smirk upon his lips, it seems as though Lumis knew this. “Tell me...” Sidious continued in his ponderous tone. “Did the Force show you a vision of the future, or do you come from it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was both?” Lumis asked, chuckling softly when Sidious simply bowed his head and gestured for him to continue, no surprise or disbelief within the lines of his face. He had, of course, already puzzled it out, as Lumis knew he would. Sidious did not get to where he was by maintaining a belief that the impossible could not be overcome with the power of the Force.

“The Force has always gifted me with sight beyond the present,” Lumis said softly, closing his eyes and dipping lightly into the Force and grinning when he could feel Sidious’ powerful presence slide alongside him, his touch familiar, almost comforting, like the echoes of his own Master before his ambitions became too great, before he had planned to betray Lumis for another, just as his Jedi Master had once done. “A lone Padawan standing in a field of smoke and ash surrounded by thousands and thousands of dead Jedi. A man with the power to destroy a planet at his fingertips. The face of a man screaming as he is consumed by flames. All things that have yet to come to pass. Distant for me, and even more so for you.”

“And what of the things you have seen with your own two eyes?” Sidious asked, taking a step closer as Lumis smiled brightly, his arms folding over his chest as he quietly held the answer close to him for a moment.

“War...” Lumis drawled thickly, almost reverently, his lazy smile growing as he watched Sidious’ eyes blaze pale yellow with the interest of his fulfilled ambitions.

“The culmination of the Separatist Crisis.”

“The culmination of your machinations and manipulations, Sidious,” Lumis corrected. “The Clone Wars. The galaxy consumed in violence and death as Republic grows weary and fractured, the Dark Side feeding and growing stronger and stronger with each passing day as it rises and swells, and the Jedi in their Temple feel nothing. The Dark Side infects them, makes them weak and blind, and they don’t even know it is happening. You will rise right under their noses while they keep a silent vigil and profess that nothing is wrong. The revenge of the Sith will be completed, and the Jedi will invite it upon themselves.”

“And your Master accomplished this with you at his side?” Sidious ventured carefully, guessing at the image of the puzzle before him with the pieces he had assembled, and was pleased to see the Darksider’s shoulders relax with a slight sigh and an affirmative nod.

“He did...” Lumis whispered, his hand running casually through his neatly styled hair and smirking coyly at the other Sith. “My Master,” he started before he chuckled, shook his head, and decided to drop the unnecessary pretense. “My Sidious held me in the highest regard. He taught me how to turn words into weapons, he taught me how to manipulate a conversation in order to achieve the results I wanted, he taught me how to subtly influence people so that they may fall into the bigger picture that we had engineered.”

“I assume he instructed you in the ways of the Force as well,” Sidious said, the slightest smirk touching his lips when the Dark Side rippled in response, the first indication within the Force of the Darksider’s presence.

“Nuyak meistras mokijas nun’tave midwan kia’svera pergaleas. Kotswinot itsu nuyak,

wonoksh Qyâsik nun.” Through the Force, Lumis could feel the sudden cold of the Dark Side as it woke to Sidious’ command, stirred by the spoken Ancient Sith and ravenous and greedy as the blaze in the Master’s eyes. Lumis felt his heart pounding with excitement in response. Insatiable need and want burned cold in the currents of the Force, and it had been so, so long since he had been wanted by anyone.

“Tu’aras’tsis,” Sidious hissed, the heavy weight of his respect on each word, and Lumis bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“Yes, I am Sith,” Lumis said, taking a step closer to the older man. “I’m not some blunt tool, I have been sharpened and refined specifically to rule, as the Sith have always been destined for. As your Master once taught you and as you taught me, we are not butchers like the Sith Lords of old. Although...” Lumis drawled, the smirk on his lips becoming hard and harsh. “It would seem as though Aestus was absent for that particular lesson.”

“Aestus is not fit for such lessons,” Sidious growled, a scornful sneer marring his face as his eyes narrowed in an effort to read Lumis’ intent, but found the other Sith Lord to be relaxed, more interested than accusatory. “He is an animal, and little more than that.”

“Because you allowed it,” Lumis said quietly, a simple observation that he knew could very well be taken as offense, though from the way Sidious scoffed and waved the idea away with a dismissive gesture, it seemed as though it would not be taken as such. “Aestus could have been so much more than he is. Aestus could have been me.”

“A foolish notion,” Sidious dismissed.

“Only because his Master failed him,” Lumis countered, standing his ground when Sidious’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’d like to know why.”

“You seem to know a great deal about my apprentice,” Sidious growled dangerously, and Lumis considered for a moment before he shrugged indifferently, his entire demeanor remaining relaxed and carefree despite the tug of Sidious’ anger. He was used to far greater wrath from his own Sidious.

“I spent some time in Aestus’ company,” Lumis said smugly, the smirk on his lips growing as Sidious’ displeasure deepened. “For a man that has spent the better part of his life as your apprentice, he knows shockingly little. He’s strong, certainly, and not unintelligent, but his knowledge of the Dark Side isn’t even a shadow of what it should be. His command of the Force is awkward and clumsy, his mind easy to manipulate, he fears the dark and seeks comfort from it like a child.” A disgusted sneer cracked the light, easy facade that Lumis wore, a curious shrug tensing his shoulders that felt like an accusation. “Over ten years into his apprenticeship, and he isn’t even close to mastery, as he should be. There wasn’t even a contest between us when we fought.”

“Did you fight my apprentice?” Sidious asked, more amused than angry, the previous displeasure fading from his face as he examined Lumis anew. “Is Aestus dead?”

“He very well may be,” Lumis whispered, breathing deep as he felt for the bond that had connected him with his unfortunate twin and found it faint, the tether slack and unresponsive as he tugged upon it. A soft, irritated hiss slipped passed Sidious’ lips, his arms folding over his chest as he stepped back and leaned against his desk, looking at the ceiling for a moment in quiet contemplation before he regarded Lumis once again.

“For as weak and flawed as Aestus was, there was never an opponent he hadn’t managed to destroy,” Sidious said in his slow, measured voice, a twitch of irritation at the corner of his eye as his lips curled into a displeased sneer. “All perceived threats, all viable competition, and creature he believed could possibly replace him murdered without a second thought.”

“That should please you,” Lumis said softly. “Is it not the way of the Sith to earn their place with blood in order to strengthen the line?”

“Is that the way it was with you?” Sidious asked, and Lumis held his breath, his jaw tightening as his teeth ground together.

“...no,” he said tightly, exhaling sharply and taking a long, deep breath to ease the tension that had swiftly gripped him. “No, I worked closely with another. But then, you never truly believed in Bane’s Rule of Two, did you?” With a bow of his head, Sidious conceded the point.

“Had Aestus not been so short sighted, he would have known and understood this as you do,” Sidious said bitterly, the spark of that hungry envy glowing in his eyes. “Instead, the small minded fool allowed himself to be consumed by petty jealousy in his never-ending attempts to seek attention.” He scoffed and dismissively flicked his wrist as if to be rid of something unwanted clinging to his fingertips. “The actions of a small, weak man grasping for the illusion of power. The Terentatek does not bother itself with the botfly, but my apprentice swatted at each and every one, and in doing so, constantly ruined many of my carefully laid plans.”

“You sought to replace him...” Lumis muttered, the hard stare Sidious laid upon him confirming the suspicion, and for a moment, Lumis felt his chest tighten in sympathy for his unfortunate twin.

“Wouldn’t you?” Sidious said flatly. “Aestus’ murderous blundering was a liability. He could never be the apprentice I needed.”

“But he could have been,” Lumis insisted. “You could have made him into something more. These botflies you speak of are more than a mere pest if you were actually looking toward them to replace him. Not a perceived threat, a real one,” Lumis said, pointing an accusing finger at the Sith master. “Aestus was a weapon that you blunted on these nobodies. You had a fine blade that needed forging, and you instead used it as a bludgeoning tool.”

For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the air straining the Dark Side and making it snap and howl and pull at the chains that both Sith Lords tightly held, their fingers slowly curling around their lightsabers. It broke with a weary sigh, Sidious’ shoulders slumping as he laid his weapon upon the desk and ran a hand over his tired face.

“It was never my intention for Aestus to become this way,” Sidious muttered. “I do not know the circumstances which brought you to the Sith, but I brought Aestus to me when he was still a child. He was wild and feral and powerful, and I sought to tame that. For a time,” he continued slowly when he felt Lumis relax, “I raised Aestus. My intention was to forge him into something...very much like yourself,” he said, gesturing to the other Sith Lord. “He lived in my home, I educated him in the subjects that would be of use to him as my right hand, as I always intended for him to be.”

“Something wrong in paradise?” Lumis teased, smirking as he leaned in toward the scoffing Master. “Something that made you fail your apprentice?”

“Maul...” Sidious hissed bitterly, and Lumis could feel his chest tighten at the mention of the name of the creature that had stolen everything from him. “The assassin I had been training since his youth, the creature designed to be my blunt instrument when the herd needed to be culled. And Aestus,” Sidious spat, “the short-sighted, jealous fool, murdered him where he slept as if he were worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as him. As if they could ever be equals. He could not see Maul for the tool I had made him to be. Not an apprentice, a tool to be used by his Sith Masters, and by treating him as a threat, Aestus showed himself to be worthy of nothing higher than that.”

“The impulsive decision of a young man,” Lumis softly excused. “Certainly such a thing could have been punished, explained, and moved beyond.”

“Perhaps...” Sidious said with a dismissive shrug. “If he hadn’t been an alpha. But he is, and he is plagued by the weakness of his sex. For a time, I believed he could be taught to overcome his biological failings, but his murder of Maul proved otherwise. He could never be anything more than a stupid, mindless brute, and his biology would see him impulsively murder again. He, like all alphas, was made to be ruled.”

“As all humans in this place,” Lumis added with a smirk, his eyes raking over the Sith Master. “Base and primitive, little more than animals. Your humans, Sidious, are bound by instinct and slaved to the weakness of their biology. The humans here are born craving submission...”

“That is true of alphas and omegas,” Sidious quietly corrected. “Betas such as myself are more evolved than our primitive kin. More like yourself.”

“That so?” Lumis asked, a hand unconsciously moving to stroke his beard in thought as he tried to make sense of the new information.

“They are inferior beings,” Sidious explained with a shrug. “Barely sentient animals made to be domesticated, and Aestus is no different. He stubbornly destroyed many of my plans all because his alpha weakness left him insecure and frail.” Sidious scoffed, his lips curling into a disgusted sneer. “Countless replacements and potential apprentices, all murdered by him in fits of jealousy. Hundreds of the finest materials all shattered before they could be carved and shaped into masterpieces by the rough-hewn, blunt instrument that was my failure of an apprentice.”

“If Aestus was capable of destroying your prospects, they were certainly unworthy of standing before you,” Lumis pointed out, and a slow, cruel smirk touched Sidious’ lips as he extended his hands out toward the suddenly wary Lumis.

“And here you are...” Sidious nearly purred, taking a step closer toward the refined, cultured reflection of all that the Sith Master coveted and desired in an apprentice. “You bested Aestus, and now you stand before me. So tell me, Darth Lumis, what is your purpose here? What is it you seek? What are your intentions? Now that you have been ripped from your world, what is it you demand in retribution for your displacement?”

“Nothing...” Lumis found himself choking despite himself, for a moment fumbling for a grip on his perfect shielding as he felt it slip. “I just want to go home...”

“But your home is lost to you,” Sidious said smoothly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply the swirling tide of the Dark Side, his long reach brushing against the other Sith Lord to feel, if just for a moment, a desperate, hopeless loneliness born from bleeding wounds cut deep within him from which sprang a dark well of cold and bitter wrath and rage. “I can feel it...” Sidious whispered, feeling the other Sith’s presence shudder at the touch of his own. “Hate and anger fills you. You despise the lonely road the Force has made you walk.”

“Yes...” he snarled in contempt. “My home is lost to me, I can never go back. I am trapped in this strange place. I do not belong here...” He took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly filled with lost, hopeless desperation, the gold mingling with the red making him appear more than a little bit mad. “I am not a part of this world, Sidious...” he said almost mournfully. “I stand alone on the edge of this world. I am not wanted. I do not belong. So tell me, what is it I am supposed to do?”

“Join me,” Sidious said firmly, his voice commanding, and Lumis seemed to waver where he stood, a long breath exhaled from parted lips as his half-lidded eyes stared at Sidious. “You are an apprentice worthy of me, and under my instruction, I can make you powerful beyond your imagining. You do not have a place? We shall make one for you. Join with me, and together, you and I shall rule the galaxy.”

“Conquer the galaxy...” Lumis said with a slight nod, his gaze distant and hazy as he seemed to look beyond Sidious. “Yes...yes, that is the conclusion I arrived at as well. Now tell me this,” he asked slyly, a dangerous look in his eye as he tapped the well-groomed beard on his chin. “Why in all the Sith Hells would I need you for that, Master?”

The two men moved simultaneously with blinding speed, the red blades igniting in Sidious’ hands as blue lightning arched from Lumis’ fingertips, the bolts colliding and effortlessly deflected by the sabers as Sidious spun in, the red plasma dragging upon the ground and leaving long, trailing lines of molten stone in their wake as the Sith Master slashed upwards in a wide, sweeping arch, the spinning blades swiftly cutting through the air, slicing bleeding trails through the air. A sharp hiss filled the air and sparks showered around them when Sidious’ blades came in contact with Lumis’ single red, and without wasting a moment, the Sith Master pushed a relentless assault, his weapons slicing and stabbing erratically, his body moving for too fast and fluid for a man of his age, and each time he knew his strike would hit, every time the blade angled perfectly to hit its mark, Lumis’ blade was miraculously there, his defense smooth and seamless and altogether perfect.

Soresu.

It was the style of a Jedi, not of a Sith Lord, a defensive thing driven by calm and focus, not heat and rage, but whoever this Lumis was, he had perfected it, altered it somehow, adjusted it to be fueled by cold fury instead of dispassionate resolve, and it was all the stronger for it. His blade barely moved at all and still managed to catch, deflect and block each fatal strike no matter how fast or sudden and unpredictable, and as Sidious’ rage grew and crashed uselessly against Lumis’ defenses, he suddenly found his opponent’s red blade sliding forward along his as a brutal counter angled down toward his chest. He twisted his body out of the way, Lumis’ blade slicing through his Senatorial robes and grazing along his skin, and before Sidious could disengage, Lumis took his moment of advantage to slip into a furious offense that Sidious recognized as a perfect fusion of his own style and the rarely seen saber-to-saber Makashi, the strengths of one covering for the flaws of the other and Sidious was forced on the defensive.

It did not take long for Lumis to determine that this Sidious was every bit the Master he had known, his time on the defensive spent analyzing his foe, comparing the style, the speed, the movement, the command of the Force to the man who had trained him, and found them identical. It put Lumis at a distinct advantage, intimately familiar with his opponent while Sidious knew little about him, only could compare him to his own apprentice, and for all that they were the same person, Lumis and Aestus were vastly different. And for all Sidious’ considerable power, for all the strength of the Master of the Sith, Lumis was accustomed to an older SIdious, a wiser one, more experienced and far, far stronger. The fight was not an easy one, but as Lumis countered and thrust his blade forward to claim the offensive, he knew he could win. He could slay Darth Sidious. He could become Master of the Sith.

Sidious was fast, agile, his red blades effortlessly spinning and knocking Lumis’ weapon out of the way as he struggled to regain the advantage, meeting offense with offense in hopes that his more aggressive style would overwhelm his younger opponent and force him to relent. It worked, a wicked grin on Sidious’ face as he pressed forward, seizing control of the flow of the battle back from Lumis as the man slipped back into his defensive posture, backing away as Sidious pursued. A hard, fast slash whipped through the air, Lumis leaning back to avoid it, and the second blade followed, causing the man to duck as he spun to avoid it, and with a wicked grin, Sidious raised both blades and brought them down fast and hard toward the temporarily defenseless man, the single red saber too far, too outstretched to make it in time to save him.

A sharp, cutting hiss reverberated through the air, and planting his feet, Lumis dropped his lightsaber, only to lash out in a wide, upwards arc with a second blade stealthily drawn from his belt, the black blade slicing through Sidious’ arms at the elbows, the Sith Master staring in disbelief as his arms and his sabers dropped heavily to the ground, outmaneuvered entirely in a single instant. A swift thrust of Lumis’ hand, and Sidious was thrown back to slam against the window, the glass cracking under the impact in long, spidering fractures, a cold hand constricting around his throat. He reached up instinctively in an attempt to pry the grip away, only to look down at the blackened, smoking stumps of his arms. He wasn’t frightened, could barely feel the pain of his severed limbs or the cold grip around his neck or the fire that boiled his blood as he felt the Dark Side rush away from him, heeding the call of its new Master. He was only...disappointed. He should have been so much more...

“I thank you for your service to the Sith, Darth Sidious,” Lumis said, soft and calm as the former Master was lifted from the wall and forced to his knees before him, his own red blade and one of Sidious’ elegant sabers burning in his hands as they crossed before his exposed throat. “You are no longer needed.”

The sabers sparked as they slid against each other with a piercing hiss, biting swiftly and easily through Sidious’ neck and severing his head from his body. The elderly form slumped, remained still and upright on his knees for a moment before pitching sideways to lay lifeless upon the ground. And it was over. A shudder of pleasure rushed through Lumis, dropping his lightsabers as he grabbed the edge of the former Chancellor’s desk and moaned softly under the purring satisfaction of the victorious Dark Side, coming to heel beside its new Master and surging within him in a way it never had before. It was time. Now, before the Jedi were wise to the rising tide of darkness, without the infuriating presence of Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker to stand in his way. The Jedi and the corrupt Republic would fall, and his Sith Empire would rise in its place. 

There was nothing here in this galaxy for him. He was unwanted, he knew, outcast by his own biology, by the rejection of the woman he loved but was stranger to, even by poor broken Aestus, who had every right to be threatened by his presence. But he was stuck here, and while he may never be a part of the galaxy he found himself in, he could certainly rule over it from high above them. This galaxy would be his. He would see to that. He was owed this at least.

But first, to Kamino. He had need of an army if he was going to subjugate the galaxy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an unexpected turn of events, we are actually almost on time with this update.

Three weeks had passed since Lumis had stranded Anakin and Aestus on Mustafar, leaving Aestus broken and dying on the landing pad. Three weeks since Anakin had saved Aestus’ life by hiking across the brutal landscape of Mustafar and stealing supplies from a nearby facility. In the time since then, Aestus had started the long road to healing the more natural way, the bones knitting together slowly, keeping him non-weight bearing and leaving Anakin to play nursemaid to the injured alpha.

Not that Anakin was complaining about his new role. No, it was far better than being Aestus’ fuck toy, even if he had to help take care of the alpha’s bodily functions and pretty much everything else as he downright refused to let GH-7 do more than body scans and administer medications. Luckily, the painkillers kept Aestus docile, even sweet at times, and best of all, sleeping long hours of the day. He’d not forgotten Lumis’ plans for the galaxy and even if they seemed far fetched and crazy, Anakin still felt the need to at least warn the Jedi about the possibility.

That was turning out to be easier said than done as Lumis had done a number on the main power for the compound, frying parts that were not easily replaceable or substitutable. Luckily, the emergency generator gave them enough power to run the medcenter and provide lighting, but that was about it. When he wasn’t with Aestus, he was outside, fighting the heat and fumes while he tried his best to rewire the additional essential systems that ran the rest of the facility. Even when he was with Aestus, he generally had some sort of circuit board or other part he was bastardizing from anything he could get his hands on.

Which was what he was doing at that moment, sitting in the little nest he’d made on the floor of the medcenter for the two of them since it was the only cooled room in the facility. It wasn’t much, but he’d managed to drag the cushions from the bedroom and brought the majority of the blankets with it. GH-7 had started to protest moving Aestus down to it, but had stopped when Aestus had force pushed him into the wall.

“Any luck today?” Aestus’ voice startled him from the hyperfocus he had on getting the circuit board resoldered.

He shook his head, “I think I about have a new board built, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work once a charge is on it. Without proper tools and meters, it’s half a guessing game.” Anakin shrugged, stretching his fingers and wrists from the cramping.

“How did you get good at this kind of stuff?” Aestus asked, carding his fingers through Anakin's sweaty hair in a gentle motion.

Anakin tensed, not at the casual touch that has become almost commonplace, but at the question about his past. He had no desire to give up the story of his past to him, not something so personal. Nothing to defile the memory of his mother any further with Aestus’ callous comments. “It's just something I've always been able to do. Nothing formal.”

“The force gives everyone their talents.” He said vaguely, pulling Anakin down into his arms and nestling him close. “Take a rest, it's time for a nap.”

The newer, sweeter Aestus was almost harder to handle than the original one. He wouldn't complain, not when Aestus preferred cuddling to beating or sleeping to fucking. But he did feel the ticking clock against Lumis’ mad plans, the need to re-establish power to get the communications up and running to warn the Jedi.

For now, though, he would accept the cuddles and take a nap. He was feeling rather tired after all.

 

* * *

 

Arkania was, by all accounts, a frigid, frozen planet of tundra wastelands, icy mountains and cliffs, and canyons carved from snow and rock and ice rich in precious minerals and ores, most notably the precious gemstone diamond, which existed in vast caverns and caves deep within the frozen mountains that sprawled further and deeper than any of the many mining corporation survey groups had managed to map. Located out in the Colonies and boasting a thriving export economy due largely to the thriving mining industries present on world, Lumis determined Arkania to be an ideal place to stop and refuel his ship after his hasty retreat from Coruscant.

He had been in no danger of being caught, of course, and certainly could have taken the time to refuel, but Lumis rather leave nothing to chance, and instead, had returned to his ship, taken both his women by the hand upon his return, and celebrated his victory over Darth Sidious by fucking them both senseless as they left Coruscant’s atmosphere. But as he lay beside the women, their heads pillowed upon his chest and their hands lazily stroking at his stomach and hips as they drifted on the edge of sated sleep, Lumis couldn’t help but feel the dull pain of emptiness deep within him, more intense than he had ever felt it. It was a pain he always knew had been there, the result of the torn and bloody hole within him that grew worse with each rending of his heart, but now, he felt it more keenly than ever, could feel the new gashes within him, and though he saw the wounds and felt the blood, he knew he could do nothing to stop it.

There was something missing inside Lumis, an aching void that longed to be filled in the place his heart used to be, a thing that always ate at the back of his mind that he was always quick to ignore and brush aside when it made its presence known. Until this moment, he hadn‘t had the time to think about it, had always managed to bury the feeling deep within him and move on, had been caught in the grip of insanity, in shock of walking this new world, submerged in the urgent focus of his plans to destroy Sidious. All things consuming, all things pressing and urgent, but now, as he lay in the arms of his temporary lovers, with Sidious dead and the next step of his plan affording him a significantly larger window of opportunity, the tension released, and the gnawing ache returned.

Here, surrounded by the heavy calm of the women’s post-coital bliss and the gentle hum of his ship as they cut through hyperspace, his fingers ever so gently dipping into the waters of the Force, Lumis found the source, took the time to feel the pain of the void, and realized that he was lonely. Terribly so. Once, the broken soul that lay in the very heart of him had been held together by bright, shining bonds, each connection forged and made strong by time and hardship and the fight for a common cause. By Quinlan Vos, his brother in darkness that he had worked so hard to see gently, beautifully fall to the Dark Side of the Force. By Cody, the tenacious clone that had done more than any other to see the Sith Lord put together after he had irrevocably broken. By Yoda, the massive horned Bull Rancor bonded so closely to him that in battle, Lumis had difficulty determining where he ended and the beast began. By Satine, lovely Satine, beautiful, dead Satine...

But he wasn’t thinking about that. He couldn’t.

But now, those bonds were severed, each of the once tight golden threads hanging dull and limp in his hands, attached to nothing and no one and plunging him into the painful, aching darkness of the void that rested within him. And Lumis was alone, for the first time in his life, truly, utterly alone, and the ache could no longer be ignored, despite the Sith’s best attempts at pushing it away once again. Even the bond he had accidentally forged with Aestus felt dull and tarnished, a transient thing that now felt more like a trick of the light than the powerful anchor it had been in his insanity. Whether it be because of the distance between them, or because of his weakened state due to the wounds inflicted upon him, or possibly even the result of the man succumbing to his injuries, Lumis did not know, but whatever it was, when Lumis grasped for the faint light of that bond, it was out of his reach, an illusion crafted by his lonely mind, and nothing more. This was, at least for now, not the path the Force had set him upon. If ever he were to return to Aestus, either to collect an ally or deal with a threat, it would not be now.

Aestus would have to wait.

Extracting himself from the women’s entwining arms to the sound of soft, sleepy groans of protest, Lumis slipped back into his pants and made his way to the cockpit, his fingers flipping switches as he sat in the pilot’s seat to summon forth the galactic map and their currently charted course along the Perlemian Trade Route, chosen for the abundance of civilized, densely populated planets with bustling trading ports along the way. Just now passing out of the Core and into the Colonies, Lumis’ eyes lazily drifted to give a cursory examination to the planets in the surrounding sectors, deciding where it would be best to set down to refuel and restock for the long trip to Kamino.

He wasn’t entirely sure why his gaze had drifted to Arkania, far enough off their current route to be considered remote, but no matter where he looked, no matter how many reasons he found for dismissing it, he found his attention continuously drawn back to the small icy world. He enlarged the planet in the holographic field and studied the beautiful image of the light blue and white planet in its orbit, looked over the readouts of the astrological, physical, and societal information the databank provided him with, and new pain tore into his chest as the Force gripped him and urged him forward. He was meant to be there, and Lumis wasn’t one to deny the call of the Force.

Minimizing the projection, Lumis had pressed his fingers to the ship’s navicomputer and imputed the coordinates for Arkania.

Now, only an hour later, freshly washed and neatly dressed in a set of new, pressed black robes, Lumis stepped out of the ship after he had set down on Arkania to breath in the crisp, cool air, his eyes roving over the beings wrapped tight in warm jackets and furs, all of them rushing between the fueling platform and the nearby loading docks to pack hundreds of waiting freighters full of valuable exports. The fine robes Lumis wore seemed wholly insufficient to stave off the chill, when compared to the many warm layers the workers wore, but Lumis had always found himself strangely comfortable in extreme temperatures.

Once, he had happily made his home upon fiery Mustafar, right on the banks of one of its many, dangerous lava rivers, a thing he found to be filled with exceptional beauty, and Darth Sidious had made it a point to train Lumis upon frigid Mygeeto, stripped bare and forced to endure exposure that would have killed a lesser man, but he had endured that, and after a time, the frozen chill simply stopped bothering him. Even the Force ran blistering hot or bitterly cold to the Sith Lord. Lost to him were the warm, temperate winds of the Light, now only filled with the flash fires of passion and rage and the gripping arctic chill of the Dark Side in its calm, patient repose, the ice never seeming to ever leave his veins. But he had grown used to it, and the cold had, in many ways, become a comfort.

Arkania wasn’t nearly as cold as Mygeeto had been, and Lumis found it to be really quite pleasant, the overdressed people around him merely being dramatic.

And through all of it was the Force, crying and calling and pulling upon him like a riptide within the waters urging him toward where he was needed. Closing his eyes and reaching out with his senses, he allowed his consciousness to be drawn toward that which called for him, deep and resonant and mournful in its loneliness, hauntingly beautiful and achingly painful all at once and keenly felt within his bones like a faint and distant echo. He dove deeper, reaching out toward the forlorn howl that rippled across the Force and drew him in, tried to discern what it was and why he had been brought here, but the bustling throngs of life, loud and bright and boisterous, dulled the muted tones he sought to hear, though the pulling pulse he felt within his chest only grew stronger, like he had been caught on the end of a fisherman’s line and was being forcibly reeled in.

Calling over the fueling attendant and ordering his ship be fueled and convincing him he had already paid with a wave of his hand, Lumis walked back into the ship and into the hold, uncovered the 22-B Nightfalcon, and mounted the sleek, swift speeder. Whatever it was that was out there, he would find it. The Force was guiding him, and especially now, aching and yearning for the comfort of the tight bonds that had been cruelly and brutally severed, Lumis would answer the call of the kindred spirit that guided him here to this place in this moment.

The Sith Lord pulled up his hood as he sped off into the snowy tundra toward the distant canyons and mountains of ice, his gaze distant and unfocused as he stared into the Force to follow the path laid out before him, the tug upon him becoming a steady, guiding push as he effortlessly followed the current. The cool, crisp rush of the arctic wind in his ears faded the further away from the city he rode, the air and the wind giving way to a soft, melodic song rippling through the Force, mournful and wanting and trembling with power, not unlike the song Lumis’ kyber crystal sang to him as he began dipping his toes into the blackened depths of the Dark Side so very long ago. It resonated with him, grew louder in his ears and hummed strong in his chest in unison with the beating of his heart, bespoke of familiarity, though he had never traveled this road before. Whatever it was, he had chosen correctly in coming here. At this very moment, this was where he was meant to be.

Flat tundra became mountainous canyon walls dotted with caves and caverns and the numerous mining facilities that dove deep within them, the sorrowful cry he followed becoming warped and distorted with the activity of shouting foremen and the swarming miners and the screeching of drills as they struggled to bore into hard stone. And still he effortlessly followed, directed by the Force as he sped through the mountains growing ever wilder until the feel of the the miners crawling beneath the ground like burrowing insects faded into only the slightest imprint upon the cresting waves of a Force moved by the music of another. Lumis couldn’t help the peaceful smile that spread across his lips as the cold wind whipped through his hair, the wild, untouched beauty around him so refreshing that he didn’t once consider why, on a planet as rich in valuable resources as Arkania, the mining companies hadn’t yet tamed and despoiled the entirety of the wilderness.

Though he suspected he was about to find out.

Gradually slowing the speeder as he wove through winding canyons cut into the icy mountains, Lumis skid to a complete stop when he felt the Force snap at his attention like a leash, his attention immediately drawn to the cracks and crevices hewn into the cliff face and followed them down into a high, thick snow drift, the surface glittering with a sheen of ice, a slight concave contour bowing the surface as if it held a great weight upon it. Closing his eyes, he felt the mournful cry in the force ghost across his skin like the breath of the wind, and for just a moment, could have sworn he could actually hear something with his ears, not just feel it in the echos of the Force, a ghostly lament that reverberated deep within his chest and made his heart lurch to beat in time with the rising and falling pitch.

This was the place.

Reaching his hand out and feeling the Force move through him, he pushed outwards and smirked in satisfaction when a loud crack snapped across the thick sheet of ice, spidering every which way from the point of impact as the Force slammed hard against it. The ice shattered with a rush of snow and rock falling from above as the snow drift collapsed, the Sith Lord watching impassively as blades of ice and jagged shards of stone slicing through the air straight toward hin hung suspended in the air around him. Powdered snow billowed in the air like smoke as it fell, and when it had settled, when the last of debris from the cascading fall had settled, Lumis found himself looking at the gaping maw of a cave, the sounds echoing sounds of distant, dripping water coming from deep within the black abyss, the air from within warm and damp like breath and smelling of wet stone. It was almost as if he stood looking into the yawning mouth of a beast.

The suspended debris held by the Force were cast away with a flick of the Sith Lord’s hand, and taking a deep breath to calm the excitement that rushed through his blood, Lumis cut a path through the mounds of newly fallen snow with the Force and tread carefully into the darkness of the cave. Whatever light poured in through the mouth of the cave was quickly smothered, though Lumis’ eyes quickly adjusted to the oppressive darkness, the ability to see clearly in the absence of light one of the many gifts the Dark Side bestowed upon its children, though Lumis was finding that with the swell of power that had accompanied Sidious’ death, his vision had become even more clear, his senses sharpened to a fine edge.

The closed, claustrophobic tunnels wound deep under the mountains, the ice slicked ground melting to reveal wet stone as the caves warmed the deeper he went. There wasn’t much to see,, only an array of branching tunnels linked together by small hollows jagged with stalactites that were far more dangerous to navigate than the labyrinthian network of crawl spaces. Occasionally, Lumis would hear the scurrying of creatures as they scrambled for hiding places on his approach, or found himself standing among bioluminescent vegetation that clung to the damp stone. It was beautiful here, peaceful in a way that Lumis hadn’t felt in a long, long time, and a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Force’s idea of a joke, if he had been brought here not because something had called him, but because he was supposed to be a cave dwelling hermit and simply leave this galaxy he didn’t belong to alone.

The thought didn’t last long, fading quickly as he wriggled out of one of the small tunnels and found himself standing in an enormous cavern that echoed with the sound of water dripping into large pools of water that glowed a faint, unearthly blue, and the soft trickle of a slowly moving river far below. But more than anything, he could feel the Force, strong and clear and untarnished by the creeping touch of industrial machines and the polluting flames of life from the mundane, unexceptional drones of people that lived in Arkania’s cities and mining complexes.

Here, stronger than he had felt before, Lumis could hear clear in the Force that lonely, mournful song that resonated so completely with him and drew him ever closer toward it. Lonely and intelligent and unquestionably savage, the creature’s every movement here caused the Force to rock with cresting waves and whipping winds, a slice of bitter cold that felt refreshing in the humidity of the cavern. The raw, open wound nestled deep within the Sith Lord seemed to open, bleeding freely as the brutally severed fragments of the bonds that had been so cruelly ripped away seemed to reach out for what Lumis felt was a kindred spirit, his entire being craving for something, anything that could even begin to make him feel whole again, something he could use to cobble the pieces of himself back together again.

Something to make him feel as though he belonged in this strange place, so very, very far from home.

The cavern was so large that even Lumis could see nothing but empty darkness beyond the few colorless shapes of nearby stalagmites and rock formations, though he could feel the enormous size in the way the moving air felt upon his skin and in the echoing sounds of chittering creatures and echoing water. Taking one of his lightsabers from his belt, Lumis switched the weapon on and the blue blade ignited with a snapping hiss that echoed across the vastness of the chamber, and Lumis looked on in awe as the cavern exploded with color. The vibrant blue of the lightsaber he had crafted as a Padawan filled the chamber as the light was caught, reflected and refracted not by dense stone walls that would have swallowed the light, but by clear, crystalline surfaces that amplified the little light the saber emitted and filled the entire cavern.

They were diamonds, every wall and surface, every one of the stalactites both massive and minuscule that hung overhead, each of the sloping, irregular formations that rose from the ground, an untapped, untouched vein of the precious gemstone pure and untarnished by stone or the other minerals. It was stunning, the entire cavern lighting up like a blue sun had risen, a million beams of light endlessly refracted upon every inch of glittering gemstone surface it touched and further still by pools of water that rested in dozens of crystal basins throughout the cavern. The echoing hum of the lightsaber effortlessly intertwined with the song of the Force, harmonizing into something beautiful and peaceful and serene that soothed the aching pain in the Sith Lord’s chest and slowed the excited pounding of his heart.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Lumis felt relaxation ease into the anxious tension that had knotted his muscles for weeks, blissful calm filling him as he quietly focused on the feel of the Force running slow and strong through his blood, the pulsing thrum of it humming deep in his bones and rising and falling with the rhythmic beating of his heart. The Force here was pure and strong, the natural flow of light and dark in perfect, beautiful balance, and Lumis felt one with it, his own self indistinguishable for a moment from the rich, vibrant feel of everything around him, and for a moment, just a moment, even the bleeding wound within him seemed to heal.

The peace only lasted a moment, the perfect, mirror still calm of the Force disturbed by ripples across the surface of it’s waters, a thing felt deep within him before the tranquility of the diamond cavern was disturbed by the feel of the stirring air, followed by the sudden rush of wind. Before Lumis could see the cause of the sudden change, he jumped into the air, back arching as he flipped backwards just as a high pitched, screeching roar erupted around him and blazing heat exploded around him, the Sith Lord’s eyes wide as the entire chamber filled with a swirl of red and orange and yellow light reflected by the flames that had appeared beneath him.

Landing crouched upon the ground, the crystal beneath his feet glowing blue from the light of his saber, Lumis looked up at the source of the column of flames to find a large, winged creature flying around the chamber to circle back for another pass, and Lumis couldn’t help but grin as he watched the graceful creature draw closer. This was, without question, the presence in the Force that had called him here, the origin of that mournful cry that had filled the Force with heartbreaking music that sang to the broken pieces of his soul. The Force had brought him here to begin to repair him, and this was how. By forging a new, powerful bond to replace the ones he had lost, to make him begin to feel whole again.

He had to have this magnificent creature.

Lumis dove out of the way as more flames were sent toward him, and he had barely rolled and got to his feet once again before the creature plunged toward him through the billowing fire, a powerful jaw filled with a singular row of razor sharp fangs snapping at him and only barely missing and a deafening screech filled the air as long, pointed talons scraped against the crystalline ground, sending lines of sparks up in their wake. The roaring rush of wind from the beat of powerful wings as the creature flew upward once again took Lumis off his feet, and he twisted his body in the air to avoid the whipping tail that lashed out toward him. By the time he had landed, his eyes shooting up to once again find the creature, it had already circled around the cavern and was diving at him once again, the molten glow within it’s open mouth warning of the oncoming flames.

The creature was fast, faster than a beast of that size had any right to be, and as it dove at the Sith Lord, talons extended and flamed erupting from its maw, Lumis instinctively grabbed hold of the Force, his hand clenched into a fast as lines of electric blue sparked beneath his skin and ran down the length of his arm toward his fingers. Thrusting his hand forward, lightning shot from his extended fingertips to race through the flames, and with an outraged shriek, the creature gracefully spun out of the way, its wings folded tight against its serpentine body, and corkscrewed to the ground, unfolding itself just in time to skid gracefully upon the water slick crystal as if it were landing upon ice. It quickly whipped around to face the Sith Lord, the man standing tall and calm and controlled, the lightsaber thrumming in his grasp, and instead of attacking, the creature slowly began circling the human, stalking its dangerous prey as it examined the much smaller creature that had trespassed into its lair.

Lumis matched the creature’s movements, stepping sure footed upon the slick ground as they circled one another and observed, the Sith entrenched in the Force to feel for the creature’s intent, could feel the churn of an intelligent mind that made it more than a mere non-sentient beast. And the creature was beautiful, a sleek, powerful serpentine body covered in fine, hard scales that reflected the light of his saber the same way the diamonds of the cave did. Its lithe body sprouted powerful legs and a pair of leathery wings topped with sharp claws that it now used as forelegs to stalk along the ground, its long wingtips folded in close to its body to lend extra strength to its makeshift arms.

A reptilian head sat atop its long neck, It’s powerful jaws clamped tight and its nostrils flaring as it breathed, the creature staring back at Lumis with eyes that glowed pale blue, its slitted pupils following his every movement. Two curved horns swept back from the top of its triangular head, a fringe growing just between them that ran down the length of its spine all the way to the tip of its long, twisting tail. Standing about four meters tall at the shoulder, the creature was much longer than it was tall, its sleek, serpentine body making it appear to be smaller than it actually was. But it was big enough, and in flight, with its wings fully extended, it looked large and intimidating. Lumis felt a delighted grin spread across his face, despite the danger before him. He knew exactly what this creature was.

“An Arkanian Dragon...” Lumis whispered breathlessly, grinning as the beast’s head coiled back, its jaw parting in a snarl to expose its fangs. “There are few things in this galaxy as rare and beautiful as your kind, the Force has truly had a hand in delivering me to you.”

A low, soft growl reverberated through the air as the dragon stopped, a series of clicks and predatory chittering emitted from its throat as its head drew back low to the ground, the fringe on its neck rising and its wings fluttering against its sides. Excitement filled the Sith Lord as his heart beat faster in time with the shifting feel of the Force, the anticipatory calm shuddering before it broke once again. Red light began glowing between the scales of the dragon’s chest, and molten lines began spidering up the creature’s neck, it’s jaw opening further as Lumis felt the dragon suck in a long, deep breath of air, the intensity of the Force around them spiking as the diamonds reflected the blazing glow creeping beneath the dragon’s skin.

With a sharp, piercing roar, the dragon opened its mouth and spewed flames at the Sith Lord, and holding his ground, Lumis used the cresting waves of the Force to push against the inferno, sending the fire spiraling and circling in the air as it was redirected at the dragon. Short barks of high pitched screeching echoed through the cavern as blistering flames licked across the dragon’s scales as it drew up upon it’s hind legs and spread its wings, not in pain, but with wrathful irritation. It’s head drew back, it’s chest and neck glowing molten red as it spit more fire at the Sith Lord, Lumis redirecting the flames back at the creature as he dodged out of the way, constantly moving to make himself a harder target and forcing the dragon to turn to face him.

Howling in rage, the dragon crawled along the ground at an alarming speed, the claws on its wings and the talons on its feet scraping against the crystal ground as he rushed toward Lumis, roaring and snapping at the air, his chest glowing again with building flames. Cursing under his breath, Lumis sprinted away, diving out of the way when the dragon got too close, his much smaller size allowing for sharper turns than the dragon, and using the changing colors of the cavern around him to intercept the oncoming flames with the Force.

Swiftly changing directions and watching as the fearsome jaws snapped over him when the dragon skid past, Lumis’ feet slid out from under him as his foot slipped upon slick crystal at the edge of one of the many shallow basins, the water within rippling with the impact of the dragon’s feet. A triumphant shriek rattled the cavern, the dragon cutting around much quicker than before at the sight of it’s fallen prey, and as it swiftly crawled along the floor, its jaws opened wide to cast more flames at the prone man. Breathing hard and fingers dipping into the water, Lumis summoned the Force as he rose to his knee, a broad sweep of his hand causing the water in the basin to rise in a coiling wave, swirling in the air until the Sith Lord directed the water with an outstretched hand to shoot toward the dragon.

Fire met water with a steaming hiss as the flames were doused, and the roar of the dragon became a shrieking staccato bark as the water filled its gaping mouth. Taking advantage of the momentary surprise of the creature, Lumis scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the dragon, his eyes meeting the glowing, pale blue reptilian eyes as the creature snarled, drew back, and lunged for the Sith Lord. Using the Force to strengthen him, Lumis jumped high into the air the moment before powerful jaws snapped around the place he just was, and twisting his body in the air, Lumis turned off his lightsaber and returned it to his belt, plunging the diamond cavern once again into darkness as Lumis landed upon the dragon’s neck.

With an outraged shriek at the feel of the hated prey upon him, the dragon spread its wings and shot up into the air, flying in tight, squirming circles as if it were trying to twist itself into knots in an effort to dislodge the Sith Lord, but with his legs wrapped tightly upon his neck and an impossibly tight grip upon its sloping horns, Lumis refused to be dislodged. The dragon slammed its body against the diamond cavern walls, plunged deep into the slow moving river far below, flipped and twisted and spun in the air, but Lumis remained lodged tightly at the base of the creature’s neck beneath its horns, protected from the dragon’s efforts to scrape him off.

Closing his eyes and breathing deep, Lumis opened himself to the wrathful storm in the Force that the dragon had conjured in its fury. He felt as if the hole in his chest were gaping wide, the bleeding void raw and unguarded and exposed, the song of his broken soul calling mournfully out to the creature that had earlier echoed the same lonely cry. The pain rushed through him as he felt his own temper rise to match the dragon’s rage until the two tempests resonated and became one, the Sith Lord and the dragon plunged into the darkest depths of the Force to find the same ancient leviathan resting in the hearts of them both. Beneath him, Lumis could feel the dragon’s heart beat in perfect time with his own, strong and fast and filled with hatred and rage.

Feeling the power of the Dark Side coil deep in his gut, Lumis gripped the horns harder and breathed deeply, commanding the sharpened talons of the Force to release him and willing his heart to slow as he calmed himself. Slowly, the fire receded from his blood, the cold calm filling his veins as he mastered his fury, and beneath him, the dragon began to slow, it’s mid-air thrashing slowing to gently flight as it glided around the cavern in wide, lazy circles, it’s slowing heart beating in perfect harmony with the Sith Lord’s.

With the dragon’s erratic flight slowed, Lumis ran his fingers along the smooth scales and felt the mighty presence resonating within him, the hollow vacancy at the heart of him bathed in the golden light of the loose, forming bond between himself and his new companion. The painful ache within his chest began to subside, a wash of relief flooding through him as he reveled in power of the creature spanning across the bond between them, a beautiful, harmonious melody singing in the undercurrents of the Force soothing their frazzled nerves in the wake of the fight between them.

Sighing as he pressed his cheek to the dragon’s cool scales, Lumis could feel himself extending into the life form beneath him, felt the dragon’s powerful outstretched wings as if they were his own, heard the thoughts of the predator drift through his mind, slowed considerably by the forced calm, but intelligent none the less. But above all else, he felt peace in the lonely soul as it was tethered and joined to his own, the bond swiftly and strongly formed by the perfect synchronized harmony the shared in the Force.

Diving low into the depths of the cavern, the dragon flew close over the river, the tips of its wings and the talons on its feet skimming along the water’s surface as they followed the winding path out of the cavern and through tight canyons hewn in stone and crystal throughout the vast and sprawling system of caves. Feeling the heat well up in the body beneath him, Lumis watched as the dark was broken by the red glow beneath the dragon’s scales as the creature opened its mouth and spit a column of fire at the wall ahead, the wall crumbling quickly under the force and the heat of the flames, and with a beat of its wings, the dragon spun through the cloud of steam and dust and smoke and into the light of the Arkanian sun.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light after having been so long beneath the ground, but when they did, Lumis sat up upon his mount and looked over the icy, snowy mountains beneath them, the frigid wind ruffling his hair and cooling his skin flushed from the prolonged fight beneath the mountain. Lumis ran his hands gently over the smooth scales of the dragon’s neck, not blue as they had looked in the cavern by the light of his saber, but an iridescent pearl that made the dragon almost seem like a mirage in the light. Light blue webbing the color of the sky stretched across its wings and the fringe that ran along the creature’s back, and Lumis sighed in contentment as he draped himself across the dragon’s long neck, smiling at the sound of the creature’s soft, pleasured chittering as he gently stroked at the scales upon its throat.

Whispering a gentle command in ancient Sith under his breath, the dragon beat its wings and circled around in the air, instinctively understanding what Lumis had wanted as it turned in the direction of Arkania’s capital and flew them toward the Sith Lord’s waiting ship.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no way adding a large, semi-sentient fire-breathing dragon to the crew could ever go wrong for anyone, right?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! All of us are currently busy so updates are as we can make them. Hopefully that will be semi-regularly, but no promises at the moment!

****There were only two words that could account for Aestus’ mood, frustrated and bored. Healing was slow, his minimal skills with force healing being put to work, but insufficient to make much of a difference except further exhaust him. He absolutely refused to allow GH-7 to do more than the bare minimum required besides the regular administration of pain killers. It was far better to spend the long hours riding a high than in absolute boredom.

Anakin was only so much help, busy as he always seemed to be now. He offered to bring Aestus whatever he desired from his rooms, holos, books, miscellaneous things that filled the medbay in the non-essential spaces. He made sure that Aestus had meals, drinks, helped him bathe, and the most embarrassing, helped him with the refresher. If Aestus needed him, a quick summons through the force brought him quickly. Truthfully, the omega’s behaviour surprised him in just how caring he was with him.

Far more surprising was Anakin’s talent with mechanical things. He enjoyed watching the omega work on things, his plump lower lip generally caught between his teeth as he worked. His fingers were nimble and deft, the sautering iron typically hard at work in repairing and retrofitting circuit boards while he grumbled under his breath when things didn’t work as planned. All of it was very… endearing. So different than his original expectations when he’d abducted him from the streets of Coruscant.

It did make him loathe to interrupt him unless necessary, the omega working until he practically collapsed with exhaustion or Aestus needed him. After Anakin’s fourth collapse of exhaustion, still filthy from outside with the stench of sulfur, Aestus started pulling him down to nap with him at least once a day. After all, he was the alpha and it was his job to take care of his omega.

Which it looked like he needed to do once again as the boy’s eyes drooped shut for a second before he shook himself back away. At least this time he hadn’t been outside all day. “Anakin, come lay down.”

“I’m not tired.” He protested grumpily, the omega's shoulders tensing with a hint of defiance. 

Before this debacle, he wouldn't have tolerated any hint of resistance, beating it out of him without blinking an eye, but now he had a far higher tolerance for it. Really, most of the time it wasn't even defiance so much as Anakin being grumpy and overly tired. It was sort of adorable, the way he’d fight sleeping. 

“Anakin,” Aestus’ tone left little room for brokering, a firm stare and crossed arms reinforcing it as a command more than a request. 

That, at least, seemed to get through to him, getting him to put his tools away and place the circuit board carefully on the counter before stripping off the dirty shirt and flopping down next to him. Aestus sighed, pulling him closer to rest against his side. Skin to skin contact was always good and the only way Aestus could tolerate it for any length of time was to lay side by side. He missed being able to have his omega lay on him or to spoon him, but his ribs still ached when he did anything other than lay on his back.

“Do you think Lumis made it to Coruscant and beat Sidious?” The question startled him, a subject they hadn’t spoke of once since it happened.

He considered the question for a moment, first feeling clumsily along the bond between him and Lumis only to find nothing. Well, not nothing as it feels intact, but nothing that gives him any clue other than Lumis being alive far away. For all he knew, Lumis finally wisened up and decided against challenging their Master. There was no denying that Lumis was powerful, but Sidious was even more powerful by his estimation. Both of them vastly outclassed him, he painfully admitted to himself. He’d never been able to sense Sidious at all, so there was no way to know if he was dead or alive. 

“I’m sure he made it to Coruscant, but beyond that… I don’t know. Lumis might be powerful, but Sidious is crafty. He’s been hiding from the Jedi right under their noses for years.” He shrugged, wincing a moment later at the pain that followed. He’d been rationing the limited meds and it showed.

“What do you think Lumis will do to us if he succeeds in everything?”

Another question from Anakin, another thing he didn’t want to think about. So far Lumis hadn’t wanted them dead, but that could change if he succeeded. No escape had presented itself, no ship to leave and the nearby facility only received shipments every six months with the next one not due for a few yet. They would be easy targets to eliminate. There would be nothing he could do to stop Lumis.

“No more questions. Go to sleep.” Aestus rumbled irritatedly, using a bit of the force to switch the lights off. Not that sleep would come to him, not now that his mind was turning over all the scenarios that could happen if Lumis did succeed or failed. Neither would be good for him. Sidious would surely punish or kill him for his failure to kill Lumis. Lumis would either find a way to keep them exiled or come and finish them off.

Desperately, he longed for the forgetfulness of a proper high. Except that wouldn’t change anything in the future. What he really needed was a running communications system to reach out to his contacts and find a way to get off the planet. An attack on the Chancellor would most certainly be public news as would his death. Aestus’ sense of urgency heightened, he needed Anakin to get the system working. For both their sakes.

***

Kamino was as miserable as Lumis remembered it, a world of continuous torrential downpours and turbulent seas home to voracious leviathan creatures, exactly the sort of harsh environment that led to the adaptive, technological genius of the Kaminoan people, allowing them to reign supreme as the galaxy’s eminent cloners. It didn’t make them any more pleasant to deal with, however, the long necked, pale amphibians almost insufferably arrogant, in Lumis’ experience, though he saw little reason for them to be. As technologically advanced as they were, as ambitious their innovation, their genius was harnessed for the sole purpose of earning credits, and little else, a thing the Sith Lord saw as more mercenary than clever and a true waste of what the species was actually capable of, should they turn their talents inwards.

But he wasn’t interested in the Kaminoans, only in what they had to offer, and they served as a perfect stepping stone to Lumis’ galactic ambitions. Sidious may have been dead, but his plans were still in motion, all his strings still attached to a moving cog that continued to turn even without the former Sith Master. That meant a clone army being grown in the labyrinthian labs of Kamino, still in the early stages of their development, not yet ready to deploy, but Lumis had some ideas about that, and a very small window of time in which to operate when the Republic would remain in a state of intact chaos ideal for reaping. But that time was not immanent, and it was not yet. Lumis was reluctant to act before Jedi Master Yaddle met her untimely end in a few month’s time, the elderly creature the only member of the Council that Lumis was unfamiliar with, and, given his discomfort with an unknown and potentially unpredictable factor, he was content to wait it out. The galaxy would wait for him. His window was small, but not that small.

There had always been some disagreement between Lumis and the Sidious of his world over the state of the clone being grown, and despite the research done on his own prisoners, Sidious had never listened to the genetic possibilities of corrupting the clones on a biological level, much deeper and more sinister than the simple bio control chip implanted deep in each clone’s brain. The Grand Army of the Republic had appearances to keep up, the stalwart defenders of freedom against the evil Separatist droid army, the faces of noble Jedi Knights standing against the likes of General Grievous, a million identical, clean-shaven, determined faces against cold, soulless droids. The Clone Wars was, in essence, a war of appearances, of clear good against undisputable cruelty, fought with manufactured armies at the behest of the Sith Lords, simply serving their functions until their masters disposed of them.

But Lumis no longer needed to uphold any illusions. There needn’t be any war, costly in both credits and lives, no drawn out political conflict where a seemingly struggling Chancellor strove to hold everything together. The puppet master was dead, and with the strings severed, the weakened foundations of the Republic had collapsed, the entire political structure left in disarray when the corpulent, corrupt, stagnant mess suddenly fell down upon all the wasteful, greedy heads of state. It was chaos, one far greater than the conflict of the Clone Wars, and it was ripe for reaping, the entire galaxy opened up to unification under a powerful leader, no matter the form, if only he would save them from themselves.

Lumis was determined to be that man.

As he set his ship down on the landing platform, Lumis ran his hands over the smooth, cold scales between his dragon’s eyes, could feel power thrumming beneath his fingers as his presence touched the mind of the beast and effortlessly began to merge together into a single consciousness. It was not perfect, not yet, the beast wild and willful and difficult to tame as the flames it breathed and the icy wilderness it was born to. The week they had spent en route to Kamino had been filled with flares of temper brought on by defiance, the subsequent gouges in pale skin brought on by sharp fangs and razor claws as the Sith Lord wrangled the beast into submission, and on one particularly irritating day, the discovery that the dragon had eaten one of the girls Lumis kept on the ship. 

But time spent in deep meditation in commune with the creature had slowly calmed it as it became accustomed to the Sith Lord’s powerful presence inside its mind, as their will merged, as it became harder to tell where the Sith Lord ended and the beast began, if there was ever any difference at all. Perhaps the ease of their bonding was because Lumis had done this before with his rancor, Yoda, the labor of months of intense work that now made it easier to tame this similarly ferocious beast, though Lumis was certain that his violently severed bonds to his own world made everything in him desperately reach to incorporate another soul into his own broken one just to feel whole again.

Whatever the reason, it was effective, and even in the short time on the trip to Kamino, Lumis would sometimes wake from his meditation to find himself looking through reptilian eyes at his human form, his consciousness firmly rooted within his dragon’s being, a thing that felt large and powerful and majestic, foreign and so very familiar all at once. He would occasionally feel feral, animal hunger and a savage wildness seeping deep within his bones when the dragon’s presence would, invariably, cross over the two-way street they had created, just as the dragon was affected by his calculated calm and preening vanity. It wouldn’t be long before they were of one mind, which was ideal timing, as Lumis would have need of the dragon soon enough, not just for his conquest of the galaxy, but for his plans for the clone army. A rather significant effort of the Force would be required, and being able to utilize the beast to amplify his own powers was essential to completing his plans quickly.

With an affectionate pat to the dragon’s head and a swift kiss to the remaining, dazed woman’s cheek, Lumis squeezed out of the cockpit between the wall and the cold, iridescent scales of the dragon’s neck to stride down the hall and down the extended boarding ramp into the perpetual torrential rains of Kamino. With his hood pulled up and his cloak wrapped tightly around him, Lumis stalked across the landing deck to the sleek, smooth building that composed that wing of the massive cloning facility. The door slid open with a gentle hiss and Lumis stepped in to the bright, blindingly white room, the air itself smelling as sterile as the environment presented itself. He knew the defenses of Kamino, knew the technologically advanced natures of the natives, and knew that they were aware of his presence. More than that, the lack of any sort of defense indicated more than just knowing of his presence.

He was expected.

With a sneer, Lumis shed his cloak, now heavy with rain water, and tossed it on to one of the floating, hollow oval chairs along the wall, his fingers brushing back his hair, which had managed to get wet as well despite the hood he wore. He was not waiting long before a tall, elegant alien walked slowly through the vaulted archway, large black eyes dominating a small head perched atop a long, slender neck, it’s limbs long and slender, and Lumis couldn’t help the slight, cruel smirk on his lips as he imagined how simple it would be to snap such long limbs, what an easy target such a long neck would be for his lightsaber.

“Greetings, traveler,” the soft, melodic voice said as the Kaminoan bowed its long neck and turned large, questioning eyes on the Sith Lord. “Are you, by chance, a Jedi?”

“I am...” Lumis said as he returned the respectful bow.

“We...were not expecting you,” the Kaminoan said, her voice faltering with confusion. “As we told Master Sifo Dyas, the cloning process takes time, even with accelerated growth. We need ten years to grow and train the first half million soldiers of your army, with another million to be at combat readiness a year after that. It has only been seven years. Our eldest clones are not yet ready for combat.” When Lumis said nothing, the Kaminoan tilted her head. “Or, have you come to inspect our progress?”

“No,” Lumis said swiftly, drawing to his full height as he folded his hands behind his back. “There has been a...change to our order. We have a new requirement. A biological requirement.”

“A new requirement...” the Kaminoan repeated slowly. “Master Jedi, there are currently five million clones in various stages of development in our facility. It is too late to make adjustments to their biology. For such a change to take effect, you will have to wait the minimum of ten years, so that we may grow new specimens with your...new specifications.”

“I’m afraid that does not fit with my schedule...” Lumis said, his voice filled with mock apology. “I mean to leave here with an army in...approximately three months, and the clones I leave with will be updated with my changes.”

“Impossible...” the Kaminoan said disdainfully, and Lumis couldn’t help but grin.

“Is it?” Lumis asked as he sat down upon one of the floating chairs, his ankle crossed over his knee. “Bring me the template and CC-2224 and I will show you how it’s done.”

“This is...highly unusual...” the Kaminoan said hesitantly, the slightest wave of the Sith Lord’s fingers keeping the flummoxed alien from asking about how this stranger knew specific clone number assignments. “I will have to run this by our Prime Minister.”

“Very well,” Lumis said with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ll wait.”

He wasn’t left waiting long. Within five minutes, the Kaminoan was back, this time bringing with her another Kaminoan, this one taller and male, and two very familiar faces, identical save for the gap in age. The elder, Jango Fett, the fierce clone template, and the younger, a teenager no older than fourteen, was CC-2224. Cody, his faithful brother in arms, their friendship sealed the moment the Sith Lord freed him from his slavery to the Republic. But not this one. This one was young and petulant, more independent than many of his brothers and seemed irritated to have been dragged away from whatever it was he had been doing to stand before this stranger. It would be some years yet before he became the man Lumis knew, before he became what he needed. But he would be. One day, but not now.

“I am Prime Minister Lama Su,” the newcomer said, his large black eyes narrowing as he observed the supposed Jedi before him. “Taun We informed me of your...request. Please be advised that we are in the late stages of the project we were hired for by your Jedi Council. Biological changes at this stage in the cloning process are not possible in previous and current clone batches. However, if you will continue to commission clones for your army, future batches can be engineered with your changes in mind, but they will take time to grow.”

“Yeah, about that...” Lumis drawled, a cocky smirk on his lips as he stroked his beard and leaned back in his seat. “I need all the clones altered, effective immediately.” Lumis pointed at the teenager. “Except for him. I have plans for that one.”

“It cannot be done,” the Kaminoan said harshly, his patience swiftly running out, and with a casual wave of Lumis’ hand, Jango slammed to his knees, his hands clawing at his throat as he struggled to breathe.

“Before I have to hear again how this is impossible, allow me to demonstrate...” Lumis snarled, the Dark Side sinking razor claws into the core of his being as his blood swelled with power and the air snapped cold, and the Kaminoans and the teenager froze in place, rooted to the ground and unable to do anything but watch as Jango’s hands clawed the ground, his muscles convulsing unnaturally under the strain of the Dark Side. 

Jango’s ruddy skin became sickly and pale, his bulging veins turning black as the creeping infection of the Dark Side spread like poison through his blood. Strangled screams caught in his throat as his muscles violently spasmed and knotted, and Jango collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain as his back arched and his muscles began rapidly growing, first double, than triple the size they were only a moment ago. The snapping and popping of bones and cartilage as it broke and shifted to grow larger, thicker and longer echoed in the sterilized room, and Jango’s screams became snarls and growls and howls as his new, larger body heaved with the effort of his transformation. 

The tight body suit he wore tore as he grew larger, leaving the monestrous man naked on the ground as his nails grew into talons, his teeth grew into fangs, and the ridges of his spine elongated and pierced the skin, leaving him with a long line of thick, sharp bone spines running down the length of his back. Cody’s nose twitched as the air filled with a thick, oppressive scent, his body twitching as he tried to shy away from the sight, but could not, his eyes instead fixed on the pristine white floor, now pockmarked and burning where thick, corrosive saliva from Jango’s mouth had dripped upon it.

Slowly, the twitching ceased, the howls and snarls reduced to low growls, and the massive body relaxed, breathed deeply, and at the unspoken command of the Sith Lord, slowly got to his feet. Jango stood nearly too feet taller than his original height, instead of the stocky warrior he had been was now a hulking brute of impossibly large, defined muscles, and while his human features remained, they were all warper and twisted into something dangerous and monestrous. The heavy scent remained in the air, strong enough to make Cody feel primal fear and aggression gnawing at the back of his mind, the thick, heavy cock and impressively large swelling at the base the explanation for it. Whatever it was that the stranger had done, he had turned the once beta Jango into an alpha unlike anything Cody had ever seen or heard of.

“Anything is possible with the power of the Force,” Lumis said softly, his fingers entwining in Jango’s hair when the creature lumbered to his side and knelt before him. “I will remain here to supervise the training and creation of my army, and when that is complete, I will be leaving here with all of them. Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, sir...” Lama Su stuttered, his eyes never leaving the Sith’s demonic creation. “You can...alter them? All of them? There are over a million clones here, the time and effort it will take-”

“Is none of your concern...” Lumis drawled. “The task is well within my abilities, and I have brought with me something of an...amplifier,” he said with a smirk. “He will be joining me for the bulk of the work. And I believe you will find Jango here quite useful in the endeavor. I assure you, his altered blood is...quite infectious...”

“We will...do everything in our power to accommodate you, sir,” the Kaminoan said, his voice shaking as he bowed, though his eyes never left Jango Fett.

“Good, go see it done,” Lumis commanded, dismissing them with a wave of his hand, and the two aliens swiftly turned to leave, the teenage clone close on their heels. “Not you, CC-2224,” Lumis ordered, and the boy stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to face the Sith Lord. 

“So...” Cody said slowly, nodding his head toward Jango. “You gonna turn me into one of those?”

“Do you want to be turned into one of them?”

“No,” the clone said swiftly. “But, my brothers...”

“All of them,” Lumis said firmly. “I need an army to sweep across the galaxy, one that can strike fear into the hearts of those that would oppose me. But they need a commander, someone more...human than what they will become, and I believe you’re that man.”

“I can do that,” Cody said with a shrug, unwilling to question a man that could transform a man into a monster without so much as raising his hand. “So...what next, boss?”

“Next,” Lumis said with a smirk as he rose from his seat, “we get to work. Come. Let’s go get my dragon.”

***

Only once Aestus’ breath had fallen into the long, gentle pattern of sleep, his presence in the Force muted and quiet by the drugs and unconsciousness, did Anakin dare to slip from the alpha’s loose grip and slide off the edge of the bed. His shirt was still on the floor where he’d left it, and he tugged the garment over his head, heedless to the ash and sulfur smell that clung to the fabric. From the nightstand, he carefully collected his tools and circuit board he had been working on before slipping from the room as quietly as he could manage.

In truth, there was very little left to do in order to complete his current project, when he started his work earlier in the day. Just a few wires left to be soldered down, a few screws to be tightened. Things he could finish in his sleep, if he wished, and took much less time than he had spent over the course of the last few days. Since he’d restored the power, things were coming back quicker as systems performed their own workarounds and he slowed down. Even now he found himself hesitating, steps faltering the further down the hall he travelled from the bedroom. It confused him more than he dared to admit, this strange unease that left him glancing back over his shoulder at the closed door.

Ever since Aestus had taken him, Anakin had only ever dreamed of escape. It had soothed him to think of the day he got away from the alpha that had raped and brutalized him, that left his marks on Anakin’s body in the form of teeth on his throat, and the broad scar across his back. He had wanted more than anything to be free, and had even gone so far as to try and escape at the spaceport not too long ago.

It would be a lie to say the passing weeks had not made the decision more difficult for him, however. He told himself he was only keeping Aestus alive that the alpha so might face the consequences of his action, might spend the remainder of his days locked away the way Anakin had been since his abduction, but he had seen a change in Aestus as he recovered. 

His resentment for the alpha’s actions still smoldered like hot ash in his gut, but he had come to somewhat enjoy the time they spent together. Aestus, he found, freed from the firm grip of the drugs and the toxic alpha persona he wore, was a far more tolerable than Anakin expected him to be. Bright, and caring, and perhaps even a little shy at times. Where before their interactions had only ended in violence, he quickly found himself willing to curl into the alpha’s side, found teasing banter falling from their tongues as they made slow, stubborn progress back and forth from the refresher. It was almost pleasant. As pleasant as it could be.

Choking down the guilt that clawed at the inside of his chest, Anakin forced himself to continue moving, away from the bedroom and out to the landing pad. Away from the possibility of being overheard.

He didn’t think he could take, if Aestus knew what he’d done.

Collapsing to the warm durasteel grating, lava swirling below, Anakin fished the hollow shell of Aestus’ communication device from his pocket and fitted the circuit board inside. He held his breath as the small device powered up, some traitorous part of him almost hoping it didn’t, before the device chimed as though satisfied to the repairs the omega had made. A breath escapes him, saddened and relieved all at once, and Anakin punches in the Jedi Temples’ code from memory.

“This is Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker,” he said when the operator picked up. “I have an urgent message for Master Windu. Please, please patch me through!”

For a moment, he feared they wouldn’t, and he’d lose the strength he’d only just managed to muster in order to make the call. But they must have heard the desperation in his voice, because after a brief chime, Windu’s voice rang out through the speakers.

“Skywalker? Is that really you?”

Anakin had never had any particular affinity for Windu, and suspected the feeling was mutual, but the sound of a familiar voice after so long away brought tears to his eyes and ripped a relieved sob from his chest. The words spilled from him near-incoherently: what had happened, where he was, who had taken him. A desperate plea for help.

And after a moment of silence, where Windu dwelled on his words, “Hang in there, Skywalker. We’ll send someone to get you.”

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments give us life.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's brought to you from the deepest pits of hell. Please let us know how much you hate us so we can continue to light ourselves on fire.

 

Night fell over Coruscant, and with it, the city came alive with lights and sounds and the bustle of billions of beings, as it always did, though the hum of life was more strained these days, more tense with the troubles in the galaxy, each one worse than the last. The battle fought over Naboo was just the precursor to larger problems, the first violent expression of what would become known as the Separatist movement, a group intent on splitting away from the Republic to form their own government. That would have been bad enough, but the Separatists were comprised primarily of planets and systems vital to trade and technological advancement and production all across Republic space. Letting them go simply wasn’t an option, and so the Senate clung tightly to them, the harder their grip, the more they struggled against them, and in doing so, had divided the once strong Republic, weakened from the inside at its very foundations.

It all got worse when a few months ago, Chancellor Palpatine turned up dead in his office in the Senate, the victim of an assassin who left no trace of why and no trail to follow, and with such uncertainty and fear and suspicion ruling the day in Coruscant, the Senate nearly broke, accusations and blame flying as Separatists and Loyalists tried in vain to vote in a new Chancellor. It was a mess, and there didn’t seem to be any solution in sight, no truth to be shed on the nature of Palpatine’s premature and brutal demise.

But the Jedi knew. This was the work of a Dark Jedi.

It hadn’t been the first time this threat had made itself known, but it had never been this bold, always before striking once at something seemingly small before disappearing again for months, long enough for the threat it presented to be forgotten. But now was different. First, there was the disappearance of Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon’s teenage Padawan, not a cause for alarm until a distressing recording was sent to the Jedi, young Skywalker shown to be alive, but badly beaten, his eyes glazed with heat and a knot deep in his hole. Then Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had disappeared on a quest to search for young Anakin, to save him from the grim fate they had seen, and he had yet to return, yet to even so much as check in, which didn’t bode well for the Jedi. Then there was the slaughter on Malastare and the deaths of the two Jedi stationed there. Then Mandalore, and another four Jedi slain mere days later. And then the Chancellor. And then, after two weeks in the limelight...nothing, silence for months. The Jedi were only shaken again when Master Yaddle was slain nearly a week ago, but that had quickly been discovered to be the work of a crime lord, not their mysterious Darksider.

Something had changed, that much was certain, and the Masters had all gathered once again that evening to meditate on the matter, to consult the Force on the ominous foreboding they all felt, but tonight, as every night before it, the Force had been silent. Nothing disturbed, nothing amiss, though it by rights should have been with all the turmoil in the weeks following Palpatine’s death. And yet, all was still, quiet, peaceful in the Force, and the Masters were becoming frustrated in their lack of vision when before, things always seemed so clear.

And then Anakin Skywalker called.

It had been exactly what they had needed, the lead they had been searching for but unable to find, and it was right within their grasp. Anakin was on Mustafar, imprisoned in a fortress by a Sith Lord, possibly the one they had been trying to locate for months. It was an impossible stroke of luck, one delivered to them by the Force itself, and the moment they were off the line with the missing Anakin, the Jedi Council jumped to action, the room erupting in the excited buzz of planning and strategy as they decided who would go, how they would attack, who best to send and how many would be needed to bring this Sith to heel. Anakin Skywalker was finally coming home.

The frantic excitement fell quickly silent when the doors of the Council Chamber slid open and two men, one clad in black robes being led by the arm by a teenager in black chrome armor, walked calmly inside. Jedi quickly surveyed them, their attention drawn not to the silent soldier, but the blind man he guided, his step slow and ponderous, his head turning as if he gazed about the room at the twelve Masters in congress, though the metal eye shield upon his face kept him from truly seeing. Each of the Masters were intense and silent, though Lumis could feel the strain of their irritation in the Force. They were...distracted, by what, he did not know, but whatever it was that preoccupied them would serve him well now. He could not have asked to walk into a better situation.

“The Council is in session, and we are not to be disturbed,” Mace Windu said sharply as he rose to his feet, and Lumis stopped, put his hands up apologetically, and bowed his head.

“I apologize, Master Jedi...” Lumis said respectfully, keeping his head lowered, his posture hunched, but the sly smirk on his face made it clear he wanted something. “I was told to come in by the Temple Guards. They said you might very much like to hear what I have to say.”

“And what news would that be?” Windu snapped, a swift, dismissive flick of his wrist showing how little he cared for what the man had to say. “And be quick about it. We have matters to attend to.”

“I was sent here by Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Lumis said smoothly, raising his head in proud, mock importance, and though he couldn’t see them with his eyes, he could feel the Masters lean forward expectantly in their seats, their interest instantly captured despite the urgency of the situation that had them so distracted. “I am owed a debt. He said you’d pay it.”

Confusion creased the brows of the Masters, some of them turning to look at each other as if one of them may have the answers to their unspoken questions. Uncomfortable silence filled the room, sitting heavy upon their shoulders, and Lumis grinned as he felt even the Force numb teenager shift uneasily beside him. It was good. Confusion and disquiet were the first steps to chaos, and Lumis knew well it was in chaos he thrived. “And what debt is that, exactly?” Mace asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, and Lumis drew up taller and faced vaguely in the direction from which he heard the Master’s voice.

“I run a _very_ reputable establishment on Tatooine,” Lumis said proudly. “The finest omega sluts in the Outer Rim, the bitches are in heat _all_ the time.” Already, he could feel the Jedi squirming in their seats. “Your Master Jinn found his way to me looking for some...boy, or whatever. Now, I didn’t have the information he wanted, but I did have what he was craving, and he more than had his fill, I can assure you.”

Groans of annoyance and quiet exclamations of disgust filled the room for a moment before Master Plo Koon said in a measured voice through the filter of his respirator, “Even if this is true, and I am certain it is not, what does this have to do with the Jedi Order?”

“Well!” Lumis tapped the eye shield he wore on his face. “After he had thoroughly fucked my omegas, the Jedi wouldn’t pay!” He scoffed in irritation and laid his hand dramatically upon his chest. “I’m a businessman, Master Jedi, what was I to do? I demanded payment, as anyone would, and for it, your Master Jinn put his laser sword to my eyes and told me to take it up with the Jedi Council.” He shrugged, reaching out and sweeping the air for his aide, and the teen stepped into his reach, his hand resting on the armored shoulder. “And so here I am.”

“Master Jinn is somewhat...unconventional,” Mace said sternly, “but what you have described is not in his character. How can you be certain that the man you were dealing with was who he said he was?”

“Because I _saw_ him,” Lumis said bitterly, “and your guards seemed to believe that the man I was describing was who he said he was, or they’d never let me in here.” An angry scowl crossed his face as he nudged the soldier at his side, and the teenager took the cylindrical hilt of a lightsaber from the holster on his leg. “Also, he left me his weapon as a reminder of what it means to cross the Jedi.” Lumis scoffed. “As if taking my eyes wasn’t enough...”

He could feel the tension, the mounting fear, the recognition of the hilt in the soldier’s hand and the dread of the implications, enough to take priority over the previous matter. At best, Qui-Gon’s weapon had fallen into the hands of a criminal now masquerading as the Jedi Master, possibly even their elusive Dark Jedi himself. At worst, the Master was dead, and even worse than that, the accusations being slung at Qui-Gon were accurate. And for all their searching of the two men before them, they couldn’t detect any deception within them.

“When did this happen?” Mace mumbled absently, his hand extended toward the pair, and the soldier stepped forward and laid the weapon on the Jedi’s palm, a frown on his face as he examined it. This was in fact the lightsaber of Qui-Gon Jinn, but it felt somehow...off. Wrong to his touch.

“I don’t know, almost a month ago now, I guess,” Lumis said, his hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. “I would have come sooner, but it took me some time to get things settled after...” He gestured to the face plate. “You understand. And a ticket to Coruscant isn’t cheap! And I had to buy my protection here, not cheap, I can assure you!” He made to pat the soldier’s shoulder, but he wasn’t nearby and simply ended up swatting the air. “Say hello, Cody.”

“Hello, Cody,” the teenager said, his tone flat and bored, almost tired as he returned to the other man’s side.

“None of that is important!” Mace snapped, his thinly worn patience with this slave merchant finally snapping, and Lumis stood taller, defensive, and silently reached out with the Force, his presence concealed by the Dark Side he knew these Jedi could not sense. “We do not have time for this. Describe him, quickly, so that you may be on your way.”

Lumis wrinkled his nose. “Alpha, obviously. Older man, though he didn’t act it. Tall, one of the tallest men I’ve ever seen. Long hair, to the shoulders,” he said, gesturing just past his own shoulders. “Brown and graying.” He stroked his chin, successfully suppressing the elation he felt at the Jedi’s mounting dread. “Beard. And his eyes...” Lumis whistled. “I’ll never forget them. Bright yellow that looked like they glowed even under Tatooine’s suns.”

“No!” Saesee Tiin growled, the Iktotchi Master snarling viciously and rising to his feet. “No, he’s lying! Qui-Gon Jinn would never turn to the Dark Side! _Never_!”

“Can you really say that?!” Master Shaak Tii said as she also rose to face the other councilor. “You saw what he was like the last time he was here! He was desperate to search for Anakin, he was far too attached! Who’s to say his desperation didn’t lead him to the Dark Side?”

“If that’s true, there are grave implications to the timing of it all,” Depa Billaba said as calmly as she was able. “With the our Darksider’s activities past activities, with what we have learned _today_ -”

“No!” Mace said firmly, shooting a warning look to his former Padawan. “No, we are not considering Qui-Gon Jinn as the one responsible for these atrocities!”

“And why not?!” Shaak Tii snapped back. “We must consider all possibilities if we are to reach the truth of the matter, and you saw how angry he was!” She pointed calmly at the lightsaber in Mace’s hand. “I know you feel it, Mace. That weapon is Qui-Gon’s, to be sure, but it feels wrong. What sort of things has it been put to use for?”

There was a moment of wordless protest between them before Master Windu looked at the hilt in his hands, slowly turned it over, and holding his breath, almost afraid of what he would see, he ignited the blade, the hiss and thrum of the activation hanging in the air as a red glow fell over the room.

The Council broke into chaos.

All at once, the Jedi Masters rose from their seats, snapping and arguing with each other and locked in heedless, panicked debate about the implications of the things they had seen, how much of it bore the weight of truth, and what was to be done about it, though no resolution could be found, not with such fear in the air, not with panic and doubt sending wide fissures up the walls of their defenses. All save for the tiny Grandmaster, Yoda, who merely sat, watched, took in all around him. He had always been the problem, and he would be the problem now, though Lumis knew in this moment that he had already won.

He knew these Jedi intimately well, had broken many of them, had fought most of the others and emerged victorious. Depa Billaba, irrevocably broken at the battle of Haruun Kal, Eeth Koth, the first Jedi Master he ever enslaved, Shaak Tii, who still served as his willing slave back home on Mustafar, and Saesee Tiin, an experiment into how many times a Jedi’s mind could be broken. There also sat Kit Fisto, who had fled from the fight against the Sith after the sensitive tendrils on his head had been severed, Even Piell, whom Lumis had bisected head to foot on Florrum, Ki-Adi-Mundi, torn apart by his rancor, and even Mace Windu, defeated when his red blade had sliced down his back, not killing the proud Master, but ensuring that he would never again fight in the war.

As for the rest, Plo Koon, Adi Gallia and Yarael Poof, Lumis was not worried. He had watched Gallia fall to that cur Maul’s large, stupid brother Savage, which spoke poorly for the Jedi’s skills, and Yarael Poof was something of an easy target, the Quermian’s absurdly long neck simply begging to be severed. He knew Koon was skilled, and he had never defeated Yoda, though in the final accounting, not even the Grandmaster stood a chance, even though for all the chaos around them, Yoda’s defenses remained perfect. These Jedi were weak and stupid, were even more oblivious to the Dark Side and the machinations of the Sith than his own Jedi had been. These Jedi didn’t even dare utter the word Sith, were ignorant of their return, so blind to the Dark Side that even now, as Lumis stood and felt at their walls and slipped through their defenses through the avenues of fear and doubt and mistrust, they still could not feel the biting cold.

Lumis had every advantage over them, he knew, already knew them and their minds, already knew how to break Koth and Billaba and enslave Tii and Tiin, already knew all their styles of combat, from the simple Shii-Cho Fisto employed that proved ineffective against a single opponent, to the fearsome Vapaad that Windu used, drawing dangerously close to the Dark Side to enhance his strength, which would only allow the Sith Lord to reach him easier. But to the Jedi, Lumis was unknown, the young Obi-Wan Kenobi entirely forgotten thanks to Aestus’ early indoctrination to the Sith. In his time, in his world, Lumis had broken his Jedi even though they knew him and were ready for what they face, but these Jedi were completely unawares, entirely ignorant that now, as they stood fighting and debating among themselves, they were rapidly losing a battle that begun so very long ago.

It was almost too easy.

Lumis stood silently, patiently, simply watching the Jedi as their heated debate began to cool, his hands working to strengthen the ropes and threads he had tied to their minds in the hope that when the time came, they would not snap. It was Windu who settled last, the man’s lips twitching in his irritation, a man far larger than the Mace of his own time, more aggressive, and Lumis filed away that the man was likely alpha, yet another weakness he could exploit.

“The guards were right to send you to us,” Mace said, a hard line in his jaw as he considered all he had learned and the possibility that all of this was no coincidence, that somehow, Qui-Gon was involved with the creature that had abducted Anakin. “We owe you our thanks. What is it that you are owed? We will meet that and more for the service you have provided us.”

“It’s a little thing,” Lumis said as he stepped forward, unable to contain the wicked grin on his lips. “All I want is the annihilation of the Jedi Order.”

Before his words could sink in, before the Jedi could even feel the sudden void of darkness that appeared within the man before them, before they even had a chance to draw their lightsabers in horror at what they now faced and failed to recognize, the Dark Side reared up in a vicious, angry torrent, smashing through the calm and peace of its surface waters and swiftly devouring the light. The crackle of lightning filled the air as blue arcs of electricity shot from the Sith Lord’s fingers and rushed toward the Jedi Grandmaster, the shocked tiny creature managing to catch the barrage just in time with an outstretched, three-fingered hand, his teeth grinding together in effort as he absorbed the energy. The sharp, high-pitched whine of blaster fire could barely be heard above the angry snap of electricity and the roar of the Force, and Yoda drew his lightsaber too late, his body jolting as the plasma bolt fired by the black-clad soldier at the Sith Lord’s side pierced through his shoulder. His focus broken, the lightning struck, and Yoda was thrown against the wide, panoramic window of the Council Chamber and fell limp to the ground.

The cascading hiss of a dozen lightsabers filled the room, the Masters rising and readying themselves to defeat the dark creature, a strange, vibrating hum penetrating their chests and making their hearts beat erratically. Blade in hand, Mace rushed forward to engage the Sith menace, only to stop when pain and shock and death tore the Force open, and he looked quickly behind him to see Plo Koon, Even Piell, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Yarael Poof, some of the finest duelists in the Jedi Order, all fall dead to the ground, not to the Sith or his soldier, but to their own. Shaak Tii, Saesee Tiin Eeth Koth, and his own student Depa Billaba stood over the slain, their lightsabers blazing in their hands as they stared expressionless at the impaled and decapitated bodies of their fellow Jedi. They looked up as one, their hazy eyes searching the room to find the remaining Masters, their blades raised defensively and horror in their eyes as they retreated to surround the unconscious Yoda.

In an instant, the twelve had been reduced to three.

“You must know now you cannot win,” Lumis drawled, his lightsaber held lazily in his hand as he reached up and removed the face plate, revealing glowing eyes of molten gold and red and smirking as his four enslaved Masters came to stand at his side. “Today marks the end of the Jedi Order. It is inevitable.”

“We aren’t finished yet!” Mace snarled, his blade raised in his aggressive stance, and Lumis scoffed and rolled his eyes, smirking as he watched out of the corner of his eye as Cody ran around the room and dutifully collected the lightsabers of the fallen Jedi and handed them to the enthralled Masters. The teenage clone pressed a small saber to Lumis’ palm, and he flashed the boy a quick, grateful smile as he looked at the simple hilt of Yoda’s lightsaber.

“Oh, I believe you are,” Lumis gently chided with an amused chuckle. “Kit Fisto, Adi Gallia, and an unconscious Yoda are hardly the allies you need to save the Jedi.”

“Who are you?!” Mace snarled, his voice tense, hopeless, desperate and unfathomably angry. “Why are you doing this?!”

“I would think that much was obvious...” Lumis sneered in disgust as he stared disdainfully at the Jedi before him. “I’m Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith, and we have been waiting for our revenge for a long, _long_ time. The Force itself welcomes our return. Can you feel it?” Lumis breathed deeply and exhaled with a satisfied sigh. “Darkness fills the very air around us. I’ve never felt so powerful...”

“And it’s _still_ not enough!” Mace snapped, his muscles tight with tension, and Lumis rolled his eyes.

“You’re stalling for time and I’ve had enough,” Lumis sneered, holding his hand up in the air and at once, the enslaved Master powered on their second blades. “Either kneel before me, or I shall force you to kneel. One way or another, you _will_ serve the Sith.”

“You’re just going to have to kill us, because that is _never_ going to happen!” Mace snarled, and the Sith Lord simply chuckled, grinning wildly as he shook his head in amused disbelief.

“Oh, Mace, death was never in the cards for you.” With the slightest gesture of his hand, the Masters at his side stepped forward, blades raised, and charged at the defending Jedi. Sabers clashed in an angry hiss of sparks and light, the relentless offense enough to force the defending Jedi to retreat from the wall and into the open space of the chamber, allowing themselves greater movement, but also opening them to attack from the Sith Lord in their presence. It was an unfair fight from the start, the two Masters at his back reeling from the deaths and betrayals of their fellows and drowning in the dark tide, and Mace sharply ordered them to hold their positions, to keep back to back and defensive until they found an opening, a weakness they could exploit. And it was working.

Eight blades bearing down upon three, Adi Gallia managed to penetrate through Eeth Koth’s guard, her blue blade piercing his chest and one of his hearts, and with a shudder, the Master dropped dead to the floor, his lightsabers switching off and flying to the Sith Lord’s waiting grasp where he lounged upon one of the seats, relaxed and amused like some king upon his throne. The immediate horror of slaying her fellow Jedi served as a swift way for the Sith to smash through her defenses, and with a shriek of pain, Master Gallia dropped to the ground, her head held between her hands as she screamed at the sudden grasp of the Dark Side within her mind. Holding his hand out and chuckling deeply, the Sith Lord beaconed, and with a cry of anguish, Adi slowly began moving to his side, her movements rough and unnatural as she fought his control, but ended up kneeling beside him anyway, panting through her pain and shuddering as Lumis raked through her mind.

In a rush of rage, Mace drifted closer to the Dark Side to fuel his blade, the purple slicing furiously through the air as he slashed and stabbed and sliced at his opponents unpredictably, abandoning his plans for defense and slipping seamlessly into his preferred violence of Vapaad, the new flurry seeing his blade come down to cleave Saesee Tiin’s head in two, the body dropping quick and heavy to the ground. He turned rapidly to face the blade of his next opponent as green swung at his head, and he intercepted it to stare at the face of Depa Billaba, his former student, her eyes unnaturally pale and hazy with the Dark Side and the Sith Lord’s command, and Mace Windu felt his chest ache. She had always been so promising, s wise, so powerful, and for her to end like this, consumed by evil, was a grave injustice. She deserved better than _this_.

Gritting his teeth and biting back the sudden surge of grief for his former Padawan, Mace blinked bitter, angry tears out of his eyes as he pressed hard forward, taking the unsuspecting woman by storm and separating himself from Kit in his savage need to rid the galaxy of this corrupted image of his Padawan before the look of her now poisoned even his fondest memories of her. With the Dark Side raging within her, Depa was a far more formidable foe than she would have normally been, and with the touch of the dark upon her blade, each strike was brought down upon her Master with deadly intent, the woman moving harder, faster, stronger than she had ever before. But not smarter, and pulling the woman back, Mace trapped her into overextending her reach, opening her guard, and with a swift downward stab, Master Windu plunged his blade through the pit of her throat and down into her chest, her body sagging and dropping as the life swiftly left her.

It was the sharp, anguished cry of Kit Fisto that dragged Mace back to the moment, the Nautolan’s dark eyes wide as he watched the Sith’s young soldier drag the unconscious, undefended body of Grandmaster Yoda to Darth Lumis and lay him at his feet beside the dazed Adi Gallia, the woman staring mindlessly at the ground and her head bowed in submission. That moment was enough, and in an instant, Shaak Tii disengaged Fisto at the soft command of her Sith Master, and with an almost casual tug upon the Force, Kit dropped to the ground, the tendrils upon his head writhing and squirming with pain, his shoulders shaking violently and suddenly going still only a moment later. The tight muscles relaxed, the tendrils lay loose and limp around him, and slowly, Master Fisto dragged himself to his hands and knees and silently crawled to the Lord of the Sith, a desperate whine in his throat as he reached out to run fingers down the soft black cloth covering his thigh.

And only Mace was left.

“Cody,” Lumis said as he rose from his seat to face off against Windu, his saber igniting in his hand. “If Yoda so much as twitches, shoot him in the head. I wanted to save him for last, but if it can’t be helped, it can’t be-”

A shot rang out, sharp and shrill, and Mace felt the Force shudder with a distant, mournful wail as the Grandmaster’s long life ended, a burning, smoking hole in the back of his skull. Lumis groaned, slapped his hand to his face, and quickly reeled on the innocently staring soldier.

“ _If_ , Cody, I said _if_! Shoot him _if_ he moves!”

“Sorry, sir, my mistake,” Cody drawled, a smirk curling his lips and clearly not sorry at all. “I heard ‘shoot him in the head’ and I just couldn’t help myself. It’s the damn training programs, I’m telling you...”

Snarling in dissatisfaction but saying nothing more to his young soldier, Lumis turned back to face Mace Windu, the Master struggling to fight off the hopelessness and despair that sat heavy upon his shoulders, the Dark Side roiling with deep, sinister laughter at the pain of the Jedi, the beast gleefully pacing in anticipation of the triumph at hand.

“You must see now it’s hopeless to resist,” Lumis gently, mockingly cooed, and with a flash of rage, Mace charged him, his blade arching down in a violent slash that was swiftly and expertly deflected, a quick sidestep putting the Sith Lord behind him, and a push of the Force sent Windu slamming against one of the chairs, the man gasping in pain as he felt the bones of his ribs unnaturally shift. He grit his teeth, his temper flaring, and tried to ignore the pounding throb in his head as he glared at the Sith Master, poised his lightsaber over his shoulder, and rushed forward again, only to be effortlessly thrown to the ground before he had gotten halfway to the man.

“Oh, come now, stop this foolishness,” Lumis chided with a roll of his eyes, his saber slowly spinning in is grasp as he watched the Jedi groan and grunt as he rose to his feet. “I’ve already won! Swallow your pride and kneel before your Master, _boy_ , I am owed at least that.”

“There are thousands of Jedi in this Temple...” Mace ground out, shutting his eyes and shaking his head as the throbbing pain grew worse. “Temple Guardians and Masters and Knights and their Padawans, each and every one of them will fight you to their dying breath! A single Sith Lord, no matter how powerful, cannot prevail against an army of Jedi!”

“Mm, but it’s not just me, is it?” Lumis drawled, gesturing back to where Adi Gallia, Kit Fisto, and Shaak Tii mindlessly knelt beside the body of the Grandmaster. “I have them. And I will have you as well, and any of the others that see the wisdom of becoming servants of the Dark Side that I deem acceptable.” He gave the Master a charming smile and shut off his lightsaber. “Oh, and I have an army. I _do_ have an army, don’t I, Cody?”

“One that awaits your command, Master,” the teenager drawled from where he lay draped over one of the Jedi Master’s chairs, casually examining his blaster. “Shall I call them in? They were hungry for blood when we arrived, I can only guess how much worse it’s gotten.”

“Do it,” Lumis said with a quick nod. “Remind them of their orders and be certain that none escape.”

Cody nodded swiftly, tapped the comlink on his gauntlet and swiftly relayed his orders, and when Mace moved to stop the soldier from giving the command for execution, he found himself slamming to his knees, the pain in his head suddenly splitting wide open, the lightsaber torn from his grasp. He fought against the pain, groaning and growling against the agony, and found himself drawn to the sudden, soft voice within his mind, smooth and sweet and promising him freedom from this pain, a world filled with nothing but blissful contentment and pleasure, and he found himself reaching for it, grasping it, and when the warmth spread through his body and began to chase the pain away, he refused to let go of it. Moaning softly, he opened his eyes to find himself staring at the polished black boots of the Sith Lord, those long fingers hooking under his chin, and Master Windu looked up at him with hazy, unfocused ever, eagerly awaiting to hear what the man wanted.

“I told you, Mace...” Lumis said gently, soothingly as he ran his thumb over the Jedi’s lips, an amused smirk on his face as Windu’s lips reflexively parted with a soft, keening moan, the Sith’s thumb taken easily into his mouth to be gently sucked by the willing, pliant Jedi. “It’s over. I’ve already won. Your Jedi Order is gone, the Masters, the Knights, the Padawans will die, and you, along with countless others, will be my perfect, willing slaves. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Master...” Mace said in a thick, heavy slur as his tongue laved at the Sith’s thumb, his lips parting wider and accepting two other fingers with a soft, hungry moan. He rose up higher on his knees, his legs parting as his hands pawed at the Sith Lord’s hips and rubbing his cheek along the bulge in his pants.

“How long before the Sith Spawn swarm the Temple, Cody?” Lumis asked, his eyes focused on the Jedi before him as he debased himself, swiftly slipping deeper into the pit of mindless desire he would be unable to escape.

“I’ll give them ten minutes or so, boss,” Cody said with a yawn.

“Excellent, I need to record a message for the Jedi so they may know the face of their executioner...” the Sith said absently as he thrust his fingers deeper in the whining Windu’s throat. “Have you ever fucked someone, Cody?”

“Well, sir, I grew up around hundreds of thousands of genetically identical brothers and pretty much nobody else so...” He shrugged. “Yeah, a few times. But it doesn’t really count since it’s technically masturbation. Technically...”

“Well, it’s about time we change that,” Lumis declared, looking over his shoulder and grinning wildly at the clone, now sitting straight up in the chair and looking intently at the Jedi kneeling upon the ground. “I’ve got this tradition to fuck before and after a good fight. We just had a good one, and there is no fight sweeter than the one we’re about to embark upon. Pick a Jedi, Cody, and teach them their place.”

“...or _two_ Jedi?” Cody asked hopefully, flashing the Sith a bright smile, which only earned him a scowl.

“You got two cocks, boy? We don’t have time for more than one. We’ve got a Temple to conquer.”

With a shrug, Cody stood from the seat and walked over to grab Shaak Tii by one of the cones of her montrails. There would be time for the rest later after the Jedi Order had been extinguished.

***

Caleb Dume sat huddled in the corner of a large, fortified training room with about a hundred other sniffling, sobbing initiates and half a dozen patient, soothing Jedi Masters and instructors. Class had ended early that day, which had pleased Caleb greatly until he had found out the reason why, and his plans for a nap went up in flames. The Jedi Temple, the safest, most secure place in the entire galaxy, was under attack.

Caleb wasn’t sure if this was the most frightened he had been in his life because until this day, he had never truly felt fear. Not little fears, like the nagging doubt in his mind when he traveled to Illum in search of his kyber crystal and was certain he would never find it, nor the anxiety of a test he knew he was unprepared for because he had spent the night with his friends playing pranks on their Master Instructors. But real fear. Gut wrenching fear, the kind that scooped out your insides and turned them to jelly, the kind that left you paralyzed because the slightest movement may make things even worse, the kind that rattled bones so hard you were certain they’d break. He’d never felt it before, but he heard about it, was told by the Masters that even fear was an emotion to be controlled and dismissed by the stalwart Knights that they all aspired to be.

And now that it was here, Caleb just felt...numb.

They were going to die. The Jedi were all going to die.

The Masters had reassured them that the Temple Guardians would valiantly protect them and repel the threat, that soon enough all would be safe and their lives would continue as normal, and for most of the children, it had worked, the calm confidence of the Masters easing their fears away, but Caleb knew better, and he would not be lulled into complacency by false hope when he had seen for himself there was none to be had. The Jedi were finished. Not yet ten years old, and Caleb was going to die, and all he could think about was how unfair it was. He was supposed to be a Jedi Knight. He was supposed to help bring peace to the galaxy and fight evil when it reared its ugly head. But now, all he would be was a corpse and a stain on the ground.

He had seen the message from the Sith Lord called Lumis, broadcast to every holoprojector in the Temple right before darkness swarmed his home. “The time of the Jedi is over,” Lumis had said, the image of him sitting regally upon one of the chairs of the Council Chamber. Kneeling subserviently beside him were four Masters of the Jedi Council, and the remainder, including the Grandmaster Yoda, lay dead at his feet. “Your wise Masters have knelt before me, and your foolish ones lay dead. This Temple and all in it now belong to the might of the Lords of the Sith, and I sit here to reign as your new Master.” He had spread his hands in a gesture that would have seemed kind, merciful and forgiving were there already not a pile of bodies at his feet.

“I dislike violence, Jedi,” Lumis had said in a soothing, even drawl. “So you will lay down your weapons and yield to the judgement of the Sith so that you may be made to serve the Dark Side of the Force or swiftly executed.” Lumis had smiled sweetly then, a disarming thing that Caleb had thought was a strange thing to do when he had just condemned those that surrendered to death. He wondered how many would surrender in the hopes that they might be lucky enough to live, but more than likely, none would. Jedi ran toward danger, not from it. “For those of you fool enough to fight the inevitable, I cannot guarantee you the mercy of a swift death. Choose well, Jedi, and have a nice day. I shall be seeing you all very shortly.”

The recording had ended, and with it came chaos and panic, younglings screaming and crying because of the sudden tearing of the Force and the dread of their caretakers, the initiates scrambling after their instructors as they were rushed to safe rooms where the could be better guarded, the Padawans and the Masters and the Knights all grabbing their sabers and running to join the fight that Caleb could hear in the distance. Even now, in the guarded safety of the training room, he could hear it out in the halls. The sound of lightsabers and blaster fire. Shouting Masters issuing commands to their Knights and Padawans to form up and hold the line. The echoing, piercing dread of their screams as they died, of snarls and growls and deep, sinister laughing, the savage, triumphant howls and victorious shouts in a language that sent chills up his spine, the piercing, terrifying roar of a savage creature, the sickening sounds of bone crunching and flesh tearing as the bodies of the dead were eaten.

There were monsters out there.

They stayed locked away in the room for hours, long after the sounds of battle had faded, long after the screams and wails only echoed distantly across the silent, empty halls. An oppressive silence hung over them as they were all too afraid to speak, too afraid to move in case something were out there listening and waiting for signs of life. Even the Force, usually such a warm, embracing comfort, was frigid and cold and only made them feel more afraid to touch it, amplifying their fears instead of taking them away. They turned to the Masters, scared initiates restless with nerves asking in whispers if it was safe yet, only for their guardians to quietly tell them that the time was not right, that they must remain hidden for now, the soothing whispers of , “Not yet, little one,” enough to ease most to be calm a while longer, content to cling to the Master’s word for hope when Caleb knew they must know, just as he did.

When the fortified door was torn out of the wall as if it was nothing, Caleb felt a wash of relief when snarling, savage monsters, just as horrifying as he had imagined them, burst through the door. The waiting was killing him, and to have something change, even if it meant the end for him and everyone in the room, was very much welcome. Though he wished the other children would stop screaming. It was pointless, stupid, and no doubt irritated the monsters as much as it irritated him. The end was here. It was best just to accept it.

The sharp thrum of lightsabers reverberated through the air as the Masters rushed forward to defend their charges, the monsters laughing and snarling deeply as the Jedi attacked, but they didn’t raise their blasters or draw any other weapons against them. Instead, the Jedi were thrown backwards to slam into the throng of children they protected by a powerful swipe of the Force, and a moment later, the man from the holorecording, the Sith Lord Darth Lumis, strode into the room, a smug smirk on his face as his golden eyes swept over the prisoners of his conquest. Crawling into the room behind him was a dragon the color of ice, eyes an identical golden match to the Lord of the Sith, the creature sniffing at the air and snarling to expose long, blood-stained fangs, its head lowering to allow the Sith Lord to lay his hand upon its sloping horns.

“Well...” the Sith Lord drawled, leaning toward a young man at his side, a human, not a monster. “You know the drill. Round them up. Kill the Jedi and any child that fights.”

A sharp whistle and a crisp snap of the soldier’s fingers and the enormous monsters bounded into the throng, snarling and snapping and quickly bounding upon the Jedi instructors, sharp talons sinking into soft flesh and quickly tearing the Masters to pieces, the children screaming and crying and vomiting as the savage creatures began to eat them. A few brave idiots lit their sabers, which immediately drew the attention of the pale-eyed beasts, and those children, as the Sith Lord commanded, had died horribly, and none there after had drawn their sabers.

A short, frantic cry of “ _Obi-Wan_!” cut through the roars and snarls and screams, and the monsters stilled, their muscles tight and ready, the screaming children silenced with the cold breath of the Force, and the Sith Master stared intently at the lone Twi’lek Jedi that stumbled from the crowd of children she defended, limping away from a dead monster behind her, a bloody gash in her leg. There was silence and tension thick enough to cut, and Caleb, from his place in the corner, looked between the Sith and the Jedi and felt familiarity between them, Lord Lumis’ posture almost relaxing with fondness as he slowly stepped closer to the tall, proud woman.

“Master Vant...” Lumis said softly, though his voice easily carried across the room, a pleasantly surprised look upon his face, and Caleb looked back at the horrified Twi’lek and realized with no small amount of interest that this Lord of the Sith had at one point been a Jedi just like him. “I’m...pleased to see you. I’m surprised you recognized me, none of the Masters did.”

“The Masters didn’t raise you from infancy and see you through your childhood,” Vant said, her voice quivering not with rage or fear, but heartbreak. “Oh, Obi-Wan...what has become of you?”

“Something beyond your understanding...” the Sith Lord said, his voice hardening as he drew up and looked down upon the Jedi, the dragon at his side hissing at the Jedi, it’s chest and neck seeming to glow with molten fire brewing deep within it. “I have fond memories of my time in your care, Master Vant. Kneel, renounce the Jedi and pledge yourself to the Sith, and I will let you live.” The Jedi didn’t move, only raised her saber higher, and Lumis scoffed and flicked his hand dismissively in the air. “Round the children up, boys.”

The frantic, desperate screams of Master Vant were drowned out by the savage roars and snarls of the massive, terrifying soldiers as they bounded into the room, keeping close to the walls as the corralled the screaming children to huddle close together in the center of the room. They grabbed the initiates as they tried to run and hurled them in with the others, prying the sobbing things from the walls and cruelly separating them as they grabbed for each other. Caleb had tried to remain still in his corner, silent as he simply watched and tried to avoid detection, but pale eyes fell upon him as well, and a large, clawed hand wrapped around his arm and dragged him with the others. He didn’t fight. He knew better, he saw what these Sith soldiers did to those who fought, and even though he knew it was over, Caleb very much wanted to live, even if it was only for a few minutes more, even if those last moments were filled with nothing but terror and sickening dread. He wanted to live. He _needed_ to live, and he would cling to life, no matter how awful it was, with every ounce of strength within him.

“Obi-Wan, _please_!” Vant cried desperately, rushing forward and falling to her knees before the Sith Lord, her shaking hands reaching out to grab at the hem of his robes, the snarling Sith Spawn forbidden from moving forward to kill the Jedi when Lumis raised his hand. “Please, I yield! I’ll do anything you say, anything you want, just don’t harm the children, _please_!”

With a smug smirk on his lips, Lumis tucked his fingers under the Twi’lek’s chin and guided her gaze to meet his, a soft whimper shuddering through the woman as she looked into eyes so different from the child she once knew. “Nobody calls me Obi-Wan anymore...” Lumis said softly, almost gently. “I haven’t been Obi-Wan for a long, long time. Not to the Jedi, in any case, and not to you.”

“O-of course...” she stammered, swallowing the anguished sob that sat painfully in her throat before she looked up at him again. “Of course not, Master...”

“There’s a good girl...” Lumis drawled sweetly as he pat her cheek. “I’ve need of people to tend to the younglings that will be brought up to serve the Sith. Perhaps you would do well in such a role.” A strangled cry was torn from the Jedi, equal parts grateful and pained as she brought the hem of the black robes to her lips, and Caleb sucked in a sharp breath and held it, staring intently at the Sith Lord and his monsters. The faintest spark of hope ignited in the boy’s chest where before there was only the void of despair. The Sith Lord was taking children and raising them as Sith. Caleb didn’t know what life under the Sith was like, but he wasn’t sure he cared. He’d take any life at all over the cruel and savage death that was now looming above him. Anything to live.

_ Anything. _

“Learn from your teacher, younglings,” Lumis said in a soft, commanding voice, his eyes trained on the collection of shaking, crying children. “The Jedi are finished. You can either live in the new world I will create, or die in the past. Cody, take Master Vant away and detain her with the others. I will be by shortly to assess if she will have a place beside the children she so adores.” A wicked grin passed over his lips as he leaned closer to the clone, his eyes on the Master at his feet. “Do let me know if she offers any resistance at all, and I will see the children slaughtered. There will always be more of those sensitive to the Force. I do not need these ones.”

“Will do, Master,” Cody said with a swift salute, hauling the paled Jedi Master to her feet, and with a final glance at the children she had hoped she saved, Vant was escorted away, leaving the initiates alone with the Sith Spawn and their Master.

“You are fortunate, initiates,” Lumis said, strong and clear above the hopeless sobs of the children. “The Padawans you aspired to be are all dead, too far corrupted by the Jedi way of life and not powerful enough to be of use to me. The Knights and Masters have been slaughtered or made slaves to my will. All the Jedi out of the Temple have been summoned back, and my forces stand ready in the skies above Coruscant to shoot them down the moment they come out of hyperspace. Even the younglings have been taken away so they may be corrupted by the Dark Side.” Lumis flicked his hand dismissively in the air and scoffed. “All of them, slaves to their fate, but _you_ , my initiates, have a choice.”

There was silence for a moment as the children sobbed helplessly, and Caleb rolled his eyes when the boy beside him sniffled in his direction, waving him off as he hung on the Sith’s every word, silently begging him to continue, to tell him what he needed to do to live. Nobody was coming for them. Nobody could. Darth Lumis was right. The way forward was the only way, and the path ahead was shrouded in darkness. Caleb could live with that. So long as he had someone to guide him on the path while his eyes adjusted to the dark, he knew he’d be just fine.

“Renounce the Jedi,” Lumis said firmly, an almost feral growl at the edge of his voice. “Throw away all it means to walk in the light and kneel before the Sith. This is all I ask of you. Defect from the Jedi, and prove your commitment to the Sith...” That cruel, amused smirk once again spread across the Sith Lord’s lips. “All you need do is slay those among you who refuse to embrace the Sith.”

“Y-you promised!” the boy that stood next to Caleb squeaked in a small, shaking voice. “You promised Master Vant that you wouldn’t hurt us if she surrendered!”

“So I did,” the Sith said flippantly, leaning forward to smirk at the shaking child. “But I said nothing about my spawn, and I said nothing about my dragon, and Vitiate here has developed a taste for the blood of the Force sensitive...” He grinned, his fingers lightly running over the fine scales between the snarling dragon’s eyes. “But...I’m not the one that will be killing you, now am I?”

The child’s fearful cry was cut off when Caleb laid a hand upon his shoulder, pressed the hilt of his lightsaber to the boy’s back and ignited it, the blazing hiss of plasma sizzling through flesh hanging heavy in the stunned silence of the room. The young body dropped to the ground, and after staring at his work for a moment, Caleb looked up to find the Lord of the Sith stood right before him, his molten gaze regarding him seriously.

“Remarkable...” Lumis said softly, the hint of a pleased smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Caleb Dume, Master,” the child said boldly, his chest puffing for good measure. “And I’d defect from the Jedi, but there aren’t any Jedi left to defect from. I need a new family. I hope I can find it among the Sith.”

“Oh, I am certain you can,” Lumis said, offering his hand to the child. “Come, boy. There is a great deal of work that has yet to be done.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Caleb stepped over the body of the boy he murdered and grabbed Lumis’ hand, the cascading sound of igniting lightsabers and terrified screams following them as they walked to stand beside the dragon where they could safely watch the massacre.

 

***

 

The Jedi Temple had been dark and silent for days. Nobody had come in or out, its door closed and locked, the Senate’s calls ignored, and with the recent death of Chancellor Palpatine, the Republic needed the Jedi now more than ever. For months, the Senate had been in a fierce deadlock, their attempts at electing a new Chancellor failing again and again due to the growing Separatist Crisis. Nobody could agree on anything, and with politics and self-interest blocking the path for actual decisions to be made, they were simply running in circles, voting again and again on a matter that they would never agree on and arguing incessantly over trivial matters while the greater good of the Republic was ignored.

Chancellor Palpatine had been found dead three months ago, his arms severed and his head removed, his office a mess and the wide window hopelessly cracked from impact. The Senate guards posted just outside hadn’t heard anything, hadn’t seen anything, and it wasn’t until the next morning when Mas Amedda had come to meet the Chancellor had anyone known he was dead. It was an unsolvable mystery. Nobody had come or gone, nothing unusual had occurred, and Senator Palpatine of Naboo was murdered all the same. The Jedi called to help the investigation had said it was the work of a lightsaber that had ended the Chancellor’s life, and given the state of the mess, it was very likely that his assassin was Force sensitive and worse, knew very well how to use his gifts.

All was made worse when the lead investigators, alphas and omegas with the most refined, heightened senses in the entire galaxy, could scent nothing but the Senator, burnt flesh and death within the room. Not even the slightest trace of another, no alien scent, no fear, no anger or desperation, not even the slightest trace of alpha, beta or omega. Even the Jedi picked up nothing within the mysterious Force, at least nothing that they were willing to say, and after that, the Jedi began to retreat, sequestered themselves in their Temple to meditate on matters as they did, and few thought anything of it.

But Padmé Amidala did.

She had been thinking about the Jedi nearly every single day since Anakin Skywalker had disappeared, ever since she was supposed to spend the young omega’s first heat with him, ever since he had disappeared from the streets of Coruscant on his way to her apartment. It was hard to forget him. She and Anakin had been close, and she had been looking forward to it, had been in talks with his Jedi Master about one day mating him. They would perhaps never have a family, as her own political aspirations and his place within the Jedi would be forfeit in exchange, but being together was enough for Padmé. But she did think about it, what it would be like to be a whole family with Anakin, for him to carry her pups and deliver her children, for them to be peaceful and happy together away from the responsibilities of their station. Her family was wealthy. They would be set for life if they wished it.

She sighed heavily as she looked around the Senate chamber, the entire massive arena filled to capacity, any semblance of order broken by angry shouting and arguing over what was a chaotic mess of a hundred different issues. On the central platform stood a hapless, overwhelmed Mas Amedda, assigned the distasteful task of trying to mediate the mess, but any order that was grasped quickly fell apart the moment the floor was open to debate preceding another vote that would no doubt yield the same deadlock they have been faced with for the past three weeks. Nobody was willing to compromise, nobody willing to listen to reason, the divide between the Separatists and the rest of the Senate too wide to bridge, and with the death of Palpatine, that gap only grew wider as even more systems flocked to their cause.

There was fear in the Senate when the Jedi Temple went dark, but nobody was willing to leave, too afraid that in their absence, the opposing side would hold votes and pass whatever they saw fit without the opposition, and so often the votes were so close that the fear of losing a single vote kept them in their seats when they otherwise would have fled. It was a mess, and they were afraid, which only made matters worse and made them even less willing to compromise and talk reasonably, and Padmé had enough of it all. Someone needed to say something, and she pressed the button on her console, indicating her desire to speak, one of many, but she would be patient and she would wait. If Mas Amedda could not keep control, she knew she would. A look over to Alderaan’s seats and her gaze met Bail’s, and she smiled at the weary prince and knew she made the right decision.

No sooner had she indicated her desire to speak did she catch sight of a man walking slowly across the central walkway below her, slow and calm and purposeful, and Padmé felt her heart jump with hope. This man was dressed in the robes of a Jedi. Black instead of the soft white and tans and brown they usually sported, but the tunics and robes and cloak clearly belonged to the Jedi Order, albeit more fine and elegant than the plain and simple dress she was used to seeing. He stopped at the end of the walkway, his hands folded behind his back as he simply observed his surroundings, and others began noticing him, though not enough for the Senate to quiet. 

With a gesture of his hand, the platform of the Supreme Chancellor slowly began to descend, the startled Mas Amedda projected upon the large screens around the massive chamber enough to draw the Senate’s attention to the center of the room, the noise of their arguments shifting into demands to know what was going on and outrage at the unscheduled interruption and shouts for the Senate guards to take this stranger from them. If the Jedi was bothered by the unwelcoming reception, he didn’t show it, simply waited patiently until the platform was lowered, and nodded respectfully to Mas Amedda as he stepped on to the platform. 

The cameras focused on the man as the platform rose back up to the center of the chamber, a young, handsome man with neatly styled golden hair, a trimmed, elegant beard, and eyes that seemed to glow molten with the golds and reds of lava. The calm, arrogant smirk on his face immediately set Padmé on edge, though she wasn’t certain why, the other members of the Senate seeming oblivious to the sense of dread she felt as they continued to shout and argue, but Padmé knew something was very wrong. For as stressed and distraught as Mas Amedda had been since Palpatine’s death, the Chagrian would never stand calmly by as another upstaged his platform, as he was doing now, his horned head hung dejectedly as he stood silently beside the newcomer.

The smirk on his face widened slowly as the noise in the Senate grew louder as the arguing intensified, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the chaos around him, and looking about the room once again, he brought his finger to his lips.

“Shhh...”

The man’s call for silence echoed about the room through every speaker, and miraculously, for the first time in the weeks since Palpatine’s death, the Senate fell deathly silent. Padmé hadn’t been speaking, but she felt her chest seize, her throat close for just a moment, and she felt strangely compelled to remain silent. She looked over to Sabé at her side, her double’s eyes wide with fear, and she tried to say something, but found she couldn’t. Nobody could. Padmé’s eyes shot to the man in the center of the chamber, and the feeling of dread intensified when she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, confident and proud and at ease though the room felt suddenly so very cold.

“Look at you all...” he finally said after a long moment of silence, his voice accented with the regal clip of upper class Coruscanti. “Arguing about your petty problems, unable to reach a compromise or simple agreement on a single issue while the galaxy crumbles around you. And why?” The man scoffed, a bitter sneer on his face replacing the carefree smirk he sported only a second ago. “Corruption and greed and self-interest, rotting the very foundations of the government which you were supposed to serve. The Republic is broken, Senators,” he continued. “There are too many voices, too many opinions.” A small, wry smile touched his lips. “A multitude breeds discourse, Senators, and there are far too many of you who believe yourselves important and powerful when in reality none of you are...”

“Just who do you think you are?!” Mas Amedda managed to gasp through grit teeth, and the room suddenly became much colder as the man’s arrogant serenity seemed to shatter, his face stained with muted fury. The silence of the Senate chamber was broken by a sharp hiss of a lightsaber igniting, and the thrum of the red blade rose and fell as it was effortlessly swung, the saber slicing through Mas Amedda’s neck and his horned head falling to the ground with a hard thud. The body slumped to the ground as the man grabbed one of the horns and slammed the severed head on the pod’s console, his sharp eyes looking around the room at the shocked and stunned Senators, some of them vomiting over the edge of their platforms, some of them shying away from the sight before them, but all of them silent, and all of them still.

“I am Lumis,” the man finally said, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room at the transfixed people. “The Republic you serve has failed, and I bring to you the solution to your troubles. A galaxy united behind a single voice. I bring an end to the stagnation and greed and corruption of a hundred thousand voices singing their own praises. You will all come to sing my song, all of you in harmony with my voice, and together, this galaxy will see progress and prosperity. The Republic is dead, Senators. It’s time for my Empire to rise from its ashes.”

“Your Empire?!” the thin, nasally voice of Nute Gunray echoed across the silence of the chamber, and Padmé felt the tension in her chest release, as if something had been holding her and suddenly let go, but she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to say a word. “What gives you the right?!”

“A _fine_ question, Viceroy!” Lumis chirped, his fingers drumming upon the severed head before him. “Your Republic has no standing army. Your Separatist movement has a few droids, but nothing substantial at this point in time.”

“We have the Jedi!” one of the Senators called out, a cascade of agreement echoing around the chamber as they finally reached consensus on something, the panic and fear that chilled the room before melting into a lazy confidence as Senators began calling for the Senate guards. Lumis only grinned brighter when the thundering of a thousand armored footsteps echoed through the chamber as the halls outside filled with soldiers.

“This is your first warning, Senators,” Lumis said sharply, his voice rising above the soft buzz of the Senate. “Kneel before me, pledge yourself to your Emperor and the Empire you now serve. Make this easy on yourselves. I do not have to be cruel.”

“You are in no position to make demands!” Nute Gunray said stiffly, the monitors shifting to focus on him and the Neimoidian delegation at his back as the door swung open and the soldiers marched in. With a smirk on his lips, Lumis raised his hand and pointed at the Neimoidians, and the chamber fell silent once again when an unnatural, piercing shriek echoed through the air, a thousand voices all around them calling as one. The screens around the chamber displaying the Neimoidians showed them looking as terrified as the rest of the Senate felt for just a moment before the soldiers appeared, not the Senate Guard that had been summoned, but five towering monsters, demons clad in black armor with sharp fangs and glowing eyes and sharp claws on hands the closed around thin Neimoidian bodies and tore them apart like there were nothing.

Green blood flew from torn bodies as the armored monsters began to tear at the screaming, dying Neimoidians, poisonous fangs ripping into the struggling creatures as they were carelessly eaten. The cameras didn’t turn away fast enough to spare the Senators the sight of the Separatist leaders being consumed by monsters, and in an instant, the chamber erupted into chaos, people screaming as they scrambled out of their booths for the hallways and doors beyond, only to be quickly stopped and backed into their places by more identical armored demons. Most fell silent, cowering and crying as they made themselves small and meek on the floor of their platforms, though some tried to fight the beasts they faced. Screams and screeches and the sound of breaking bones and ripping flesh echoed around the room as those who fought swiftly died.

A piercing roar echoed around the chamber, followed by the powerful beat of wings, and Padmé dared to look out the corner of her eye just in time to see a pale blue beast sweep just overhead, close enough that if she reached up, she could have touched the scaled belly. It circled around again, high and low around the chamber, silencing the terrified screams into pitiful whimpers before it beat it’s mighty wings and landed on the back of the central pod where the self-proclaimed Emperor stood calm and composed. A _dragon_ , Padmé belatedly realized, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes as if it could make this nightmare vanish, but the mythical beast remained, its wings braced upon the pod and hunched protectively over the elegant man that stood there, snarling and baring its fangs as it peered around the chamber at the frightened Senators.

“I do not believe your guards are coming,” Lumis said, his voice soft and smooth and chilling, commanding attention and all present looked to him. Even Padmé found herself looking away from the beast she had been certain was only a myth, her gaze unwillingly falling on the man that called himself Emperor. “You see, Senators, you have no army, but _I_ do. Hundreds of thousands of them, an army worthy of an Empire, while you foolishly have nothing with which to defend the Republic. Sure, your individual planets may have a militia or a defense force, but nothing substantial enough to face down my Imperial Army. To answer the late Nute Gunray, I have the power to rule you all. _That_ is what gives me the right.” He chuckled softly, his fingers lightly stroking the horns of the severed head.

“The Jedi, yes?” he asked the Senate, his arms spread wide as the monitors displayed him once again, the dragon spreading its wings as if copying the gesture. “The Republic’s champions, defenders of peace and justice in the galaxy. You believe they will save you?” Lumis laughed lightly, shaking his head as he snapped his fingers, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber and making the monsters snarl and snap as more entered, the new demons dragging bodies with them that they carelessly tossed off the balconies they entered on. Padmé covered her head as a body fell into her platform, and she looked cautiously at the bloody, broken carcass and felt her stomach twist in knots. The robes were torn and stained with blood, the body a ripped, shredded, partially consumed mess, but it was clear from the short cut hair and the long braid tied behind his ear that this was once a Jedi Padawan. Swallowing hard, Padmé looked over the edge at the Senate chamber around her to see hundreds of bodies still being thrown from the balconies and falling to the ground.

“Behold, your Jedi Order,” Lumis said triumphantly, a wild, almost feral grin on his handsome face as his demon army howled in victory, the dragon perched behind him breathing a column of fire high into the air. “They are dead. _All of them_. Every Knight, every Padawan, every Master, even the Councilors in their tower, all of them dead, and those I allowed to live are no longer Jedi.” He shrugged casually as he grabbed the severed head by one of the horns and threw it up high, the dragon snapping it out of the air and the sickening crunch that followed as the creature ate it causing more Senators to heave over the side of their pods. “Your final warning, Senators,” Lumis said as he looked up at the chamber. “Kneel before your Emperor, and I will let you live.”

Swallowing hard, Padmé looked around the chamber, her hand clenched in a fist to keep it from shaking as she watched thousands of those present fall to their knees. She looked over to Bail in the platform beside hers, the man pale and tense and rigid, the demon soldiers snarling and snapping behind him like a beast on a leash straining to be let loose. When he met her gaze, she swiftly shook her head, and swallowing her pride, she knelt, keeping an eye on Bail until he cursed and did the same. She knew a losing battle when she saw one, and Padmé Amidala may have been stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. It was senseless to die today when she could live to plot against this tyrant tomorrow.

With a wave of Emperor Lumis’ hand, the chamber filled with snarls and screeches and screams as his army was set loose, the demons swiftly killing those too afraid or too stubborn to kneel, and Padmé shut her eyes when the screams faded into the wet, thick sounds of tearing muscle and crunching bone and the heavy, oppressive grows of the beast that loomed above her, the heavy smell of alpha and rut thick in the air. It was a frenzy, and even as their fellow Senators were eaten, those that remained slowly began chanting the praises of the Emperor as he sat upon the chair on his platform, his dragon looming over him, and looked over his dominion. It was the beginning of a new era, and Padmé swore to put an end to it, no matter the cost.


	15. Chapter 15

Somewhere, out in the vast expanse of the galaxy, things had changed. Anakin could feel it like an itch under his skin: a restless, wild energy that bubbled and churned like the rivers of lava that flowed just beyond the windows of the Mustafar compound. It set his teeth on edge, leaving him pacing the compound in short, agitated strides whenever he could slip away from Aestus for long enough to take a moment for himself. When he dared, he reached out into the expanse of the Force, searching for the Jedi.  
  
It had been weeks since he made his secret call, weeks playing house with an increasingly restless Aestus, and Anakin had thought his rescuers surely would have come for him by now. Perhaps he had overestimated Windu’s influence on the Council, and they were still arguing the merits of coming to collect him. Or perhaps Mustafar was further from Coruscant that he thought, and they still had a great distance to travel to reach him. Either way, when he reached into the Force, he found it quiet, and he was achingly alone. He thought he had grown accustomed to the feeling after so much time at the compound, but it seemed the hope of rescue had peeled away at the scab, reopening the wound, and Anakin often found himself staring out the window of an empty room, staring expectantly up into the ashen sky. But today, like all those that came before it, would not be the day his saviors arrived, and with a resigned sigh, Anakin emerged from his hiding spot, trudging back across the compound to the bedroom, where Aestus undoubtedly awaited his return. 

After overcoming the initial suspicion of Anakin’s change in behavior, Aestus had taken to the positive attention showered upon him with like a Gammorian to a mud pit. His lightened mood brought with it a change to the compound that Anakin could almost consider domestic, if not for his constant awareness of the circumstances that brought them together. While there was still sex, the scratches and bruises and bites that usually littered his skin had begun to fade from fresh, deep purples and blues to yellows and greens, and he demanded it far less frequently than he often did in the past. Instead, he seemed increasingly content to simply bask in Anakin’s company and attention, curled together beneath the sheets. Sometimes, Anakin couldn’t help but wish he’d known of this particular weakness in the early days of his confinement, as it would have made his time with the alpha more tolerable than it had been.

And it certainly was a weakness. Anakin could see it in every opening the alpha unwittingly gave him. Every time he turned his back, every time he allowed Anakin to wander, every time he fell asleep with their lightsabers within reach. It would be so easy, in those moments to take advantage of the situation. To flee again to the compound across the black sands, or to turn the blade against him. It would be so easy to kill him. Too easy, in fact. It was not what Anakin wanted. No, he wanted to see the look in Aestus’ eyes as the Jedi overpowered him, he wanted to watch them lock him away in the prison cells beneath the Temple, and then he wanted to walk away. To forget. That would be his ultimate victory over this alpha who had claimed him: to move on, and not look back while Aestus rotted away in solitude. So he watched, and he waited, biding his time until the day came that he could be free of Lord Aestus.

When he entered the bedroom, however, it became apparent that he may be rid of Aestus far sooner than he had expected. Aestus, typically lounging in the bed or working out to rebuild his strength post-injury, was hovering just outside the closet, pulling this robe or that out of its depths and dumping them at his feet. On their bed, a satchel lay open, more of his dark robes spilling out onto the sheets. Something had disturbed the pattern of their days, and Anakin felt his heart leap to his throat at this prospect of this, whatever this was, driving Aestus from the compound on Mustafar.

“What are you doing?” He asked, taking a hesitant step into the room. He tried to keep his tone light, but he could hear the way it wavered with his budding distress. His eyes darted to the floor, where another bag seemed to be already packed with the rations Aestus would need for an extended journey.

The alpha gathered up the pile of clothes on the floor and carried them over to the bed, dumping them carelessly into his bag. “What does it look like?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice as he began to stuff stray articles into the bag. As though he found Anakin’s inquisitions terribly amusing.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“We’re running low on rations, and we used almost all our medical supplies in the my recovery,” he replied. “We can’t stay cooped up in this compound forever. Eventually, we’re going to run out of food, and I don’t fancy starving to death in my own home.” 

It’s not entirely a lie. Anakin knows that. Their meals have gotten smaller in the passing days, their showers shorter and less frequent, much to Aestus’ disdain, as the alpha began more carefully rationing their supplies. But there was a hesitation before he spoke that set Anakin’s teeth on edge. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but there was more to Aestus’ departure than the alpha was letting on.

“There’s more supplies at the warehouse,” Anakin offered, moving to the alpha’s side. “I saw them! Boxes and boxes of supplies. It’s just a few hour’s walk. I could go with you, help you carry crates. You’re in no state to be going out on your own!”

“No,” Aestus snapped, “I need to do this alone. You’re staying here.”

“Aestus—” he started, intending to keep arguing, but the alpha interrupted him.

“Anakin,” he sighed, turning away from his bag and taking the omega firmly by the shoulders, “I need to do this. Those supply ships aren’t going to keep coming forever, and then we’re going to be stranded here with no way off this rock!”

“There’s no reason they would stop!” Anakin argued, attempting to shrug out of the alpha’s grip, but Aestus only gripped him harder, shaking him roughly to silence him.

“Don’t you feel it?” The alpha hissed, a nameless panic rising in his voice. “Surely you must! It’s disturbed the very fabric of the Force. Something has happened out there, Anakin, and I need to find out what!”

Anakin snorted disdainfully, brushing off the way his own gut twisted with unease at the alpha’s words as those very same thoughts had not already crossed his mind. As though he had not reached into the Force himself and felt its every rend and tear. “You’re just getting restless,” he soothed. “Come on, all you need is another hit. We still have some left. You’ll settle right down.”

Aestus snarled, shoving Anakin away roughly enough that he stumbled, tumbling to the floor and cracking his head harshly against the durasteel. For a moment he was stunned, head spinning, and he felt the wet heat of blood as it began to seep into his hair. It surprised him more than it should have, after weeks of almost peace. Of course the capacity for violence was always there; it was just muted, as Anakin gave Aestus everything that he wanted. As he worked to appease the monster that lurked beneath Aestus’ skin.

“Why won’t you listen to me?” The alpha whined, running a hand fretfully through his hair as he paced the room in quick, agitated strides. “Why can’t you feel it? I’m just trying to do what is best for us!”

“Then let me come with you!” Anakin hurried to offer, hearing the desperation in his voice as he managed to right himself, dragging his body across the floor to where the alpha paced. On another pass, he managed to snag the man’s pant leg, stilling him. “I can come! I can help!”

If he went with Aestus, the Jedi could still find them. He could leave a trail for them to follow. Anakin was quick and clever, and Aestus was occupied by this matter of the Force. He would not notice the trail of breadcrumbs Anakin would leave behind; he would not know he had been betrayed until the Jedi were already upon them.

But Anakin knew his offer was too little, too late. The alpha shook off his grip and stormed to his pack, zipping it closed and slinging it over his shoulder. He was going to leave, and the Jedi were going to come too late. They may save Anakin, but Aestus would be in the wind. With a galaxy full of nooks and crannies to hide in, he would never be found, and Anakin would never be free of the fear that he may one day come looking for his wayward omega.

“You can’t go!” He cried to the alpha’s back. “I need you here! You can’t leave!”

It was enough to give Aestus pause in his departure, turning back and crouching down next to Anakin’s prone form. There was something unreadable in his eyes as he set his bag down, his temper having cooled with Anakin’s please, and instead gathered Anakin in his arms and carried him to the bed. He was tucked beneath the sheets, the blood dripping into his eyes wiped away by the hem of Aestus’ sleeve, and he whined as the alpha settled on the edge of the bed next to him.

“You can’t go,” Anakin tried again, reaching out to slip his hand into the closest of Aestus’.  “I need you here.”

Aestus sighed, a genuine sorrow flickering across his face. “I know,” he replied. “I have no desire to leave you here alone, but you must understand, this is what is best for both of us. If you’re here, I know you’ll be safe.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, laying a chaste kiss to Anakin’s knuckles. “I love you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

This time, as he went, Aestus could think of nothing else to say.

__

Aestus tore his makeshift mask from his face as he stumbled into the warehouse compound, greedily sucking in lungfuls of recycled air untainted by sulfur and ash. His trek across Mustafar’s black sands had taken more out of his still-healing body than he anticipated, his legs shaking beneath him and threatening to give way if he failed to find a place to rest soon. While Anakin’s efforts to heal him had brought him back from death’s door, he was far from back to the standard of wellness he typically held himself to. No number of workouts could replace a good meal or medical aid, and those things were further and fewer between as the days in their compound dragged on. Even his sleep had become disturbed by the changes in the Force, leaving him restless and exhausted. In the end, there was no choice but to leave the shelter of the den and return to the bustle of the galaxy at large.

At least, he thought as he began to seek out the nearest landing pad, Anakin would be safe. The omega had wormed his way into Aestus’ heart with the passing weeks, his compassion and tenderness awakening in him emotions he’d thought long lost to the gaping maw of the Dark. While it pains him to leave the boy behind, had torn at his newly reawakened heart to turn away from the omega’s pleading eyes, he knew it had to be done. There are countless dangers in an unknown galaxy, and any one of them could befall his dear omega if he were allowed to join him on his quest for the source of this great change. 

With Aestus away, the remaining food stores should last Anakin a few weeks at least, or longer if the omega rationed them well. With a slave’s background, he would certainly be used to such things, and he could always make a visit to the warehouse compound if he did begin to run low. He was a clever boy, and would not allow himself to waste away while he waited for Aestus’ return. And in the event that he did not return...well, he’s sure Anakin would figure it out in due time. If the severing of their bond didn’t alert him to Aestus’ death, he’s certain Anakin would come to understand when the alpha was away for too long. Hopefully there would still be a ship at the warehouse for him to fly away on. Hopefully he would be able to move on…

A map on the wall directed him down a wide hallway to the hanger bay, but Aestus found himself pausing outside the door of a communications suite. It was a temptation, to be sure. While the communication lines from his own compound were destroyed in Lumis’ rage, this warehouse seemed to be unaffected. If he could reach out to one of his contacts, he could learn of the galaxy’s happenings without leaving the relative safety of Mustafar. He could call for aid, gather supplies, and return to Anakin’s side much sooner than he had anticipated. He would not have to leave at all.

So he slipped through the door, settling himself into a plush chair and inputting the number of one of his contacts into the communications panel. He waited eagerly while the machine connected, while the call rang out, and to bite back a hiss when there was no response from the other end, the call fizzling out. He punched in another code, and another, and another with increasing frustration as none of his calls were answered. He was never ignored like this! With a growl, he rose from the chair, abandoning his task in favor of returning to seek out a ship. It seemed the Force would not allow him to remain on-planet; he had no choice but to venture out in search of the answers he needed. 

In truth, there was a part of him relieved to be leaving Mustafar. He didn’t know why, when he wanted nothing more than to return to Anakin, but it was a calling he couldn’t ignore: a siren’s song that grew louder and louder with the passing days until it was all he could hear. He didn’t want to go, and yet he needed to. He needed something, somewhere out there, and he allowed that need to guide him as surely as any compass. If he followed it, it would take him where he was meant to go.

Stepping out onto the landing pad, a sharp warning in the Force left him ducking behind a stack of large crates just in time to hear footsteps and the rasping voices of Neimoidians as they passed. While he had of course he had assumed Sidious’ pet slugs owned the Mustafar compounds, he hadn’t expected them to actually be around. Certainly not at a time like this, whatever this was. But they hurry past nonetheless, talking quickly and quietly about things Aestus could not fully understand. An Empire? An Emperor? 

Sidious had spoken of such things before, in the years he held Aestus in greater confidence. Of the end of the Republic, of an Empire rising in its stead, and Emperor to guide it. But from what Aestus had understood of those plans, they were far from coming to fruition. He should have had years before Sidious made his move. This couldn’t be right...and yet it must be, to send the slugs cowering to such a backwater planet as Mustafar to wait out the change. At least, as thought as he slipped from his hiding place, there was sure to be a ship waiting for him.

And there was, to his dismay. A stealthipede freighter—the very same model as was stolen from him by Lumis, so many weeks ago. Perhaps it was too much to ask for something nicer, considering how lucky he was to find a ship at all. So with a put-upon sigh, he made his way up the ramp, finding his way into the cockpit and starting up the familiar pre-flight sequences. There was something amiss out in the galaxy, something which called to him as though calling him home, and as he pulled away from landing pad, he decided that nothing would stop him from finding out what.

__

Aestus could feel it even before he came out of hyperspace. The bitter chill creeping through the air like frost on a windowpane, the burning itch just under his skin like flames tasting him before he was burned alive, the dreadful, unsettling feeling churning in his gut and the hairs standing on the back of his neck making him feel as though he was being watched, hunted by a predator far more dangerous than him. He always felt this way in the presence of the Dark Side, much to his Master’s vast annoyance. He always skirted the edge, in the shadows but never in true darkness for fear of becoming lost within it, prey to the cruel beasts that dwelled there, their malicious laughter echoing around him each time he slipped too deep.

For years, he had turned to drugs to shield him from the glowing eyes in the darkness, to help him combat the chill and make him forget the fear of standing on the threadbare edge of a pit with no end. Sidious never approved, of course. A Lord of the Sith that feared the Dark as Aestus did was of little use to him, and Aestus knew very well that the only reason he hadn’t been cast aside was because he was strong enough to have killed all potential rivals to his position. Sidious hadn’t discarded him because he couldn’t discard him, though Aestus suspected that had changed while he had been recovering from his defeat at the hands of a rival he had no chance of victory against. Without any word from his Master for months, he had no doubt that Lumis had found Sidious, and the Master had a new Apprentice.

But he had to know for sure.

The moment the ship came out of hyperspace over Coruscant, the Dark Side slammed into Aestus so hard that he was left gasping for breath, fear exploding within his chest as he felt himself looking into a wide open, angry void, the darkness within roiling and alive like he had never seen or felt before with not even the trace of light beyond to offer even the faintest shadow to stand safe from pitch darkness. He could feel the need within him, clawing at his chest and screaming within his mind for a hit of something that could numb him to terror of this endless night, but he swallowed hard and reluctantly pushed the need away with the promise of getting high out of his mind later. For now, he needed to remain sharp. Learning what happened here was key to his and Anakin’s survival.

Coruscant looked very much the same as Aestus remembered it, though the space around it did not. Millions of trading ships coming and going always filled the atmosphere, the skylanes, and the travel corridors like a swarm, but now, in the space between hung warships, massive dreadnaughts and smaller frigates looming above everything like heavily armed overseers, while starfighters zipped along the travel corridors like escorts. Peaceful Coruscant had become a military zone, though Aestus hadn’t heard anything about a war, and from what he had understood, the Galactic Republic was a demilitarized government.

He drifted between travel lanes for a while, deciding if it was safe to join the line of freighters en route to Coruscant, given the danger of the looming warships, but Aestus eventually found his nerve and pushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest every time he heard the screech of a starfighter or entered the shadow of one of the dreadnaughts. Occasionally, he would see the starfighters dart into the travel lanes and escort a ship out of position to be snatched up by one of the warships’ tractor beams, though he became far more nervous when one of those ships was destroyed outright. Still, whatever security or screening they were using, Aestus’ meager freighter passed, and before long, the air traffic control was contacting him to provide him with landing coordinates. For once, with one last glance at the warships above him, Aestus did as he was told and set his ship to land where he was directed.

He landed in one of the many hundred level freighter docks, a fair bit higher up than the seedy underbelly he was used to setting down in, though once he was out of his ship, Coruscant as a whole was not much different than he remembered. This high up, things were cleaner than the grimy, grungy, crime infested lower levels, but like far below, the crowds lent themselves to a level of anonymity, the busy bustle of hundreds of species going about their business making Aestus feel unseen. It was part of the reason he liked Coruscant. Among billions and billions, someone like him was never, ever noticed. Even with the increased presence of soldiers guarding and patrolling the streets, Aestus kept his head bowed and passed by with ease. Aside from the darkness gnawing at the very core of him, Coruscant seemed unchanged.

At first.

Once he became more comfortable with familiarity and relaxed, Aestus could see the changes, could feel it in the unease churning in his stomach, and felt himself tense again, watchful and vigilant now that he felt out of place in an alien world. As he climbed higher toward the Senatorial District where Sidious ruled from, he became more aware of his surroundings, took notice of every detail, leaving himself feeling paranoid and watched as he second guessed everything he saw, interpreting the refined, upper class surroundings as change when he was simply unaccustomed to opulence. He stopped questioning himself when he saw it hanging on the side of a building, a banner in deep, velvet red, and right in the center of it, black and bold, was the ancient symbol of the Sith.

He stared at it for a long while, unmoving, his mind ground to a sudden halt and stubbornly refused to start once again. The Sith. Out in the open. He knew very well that cautious, careful Sidious would never allow such a thing, and this high up, neither would the Jedi, but there it was. The very same symbol that he had carved into Anakin’s back to claim his Jedi prize for the Sith, staring him back in the face in beautiful refinery. He wasn’t certain how long he stared at the fine, expensive material, but eventually, Aestus’ mind slowly churned back to live, his eyes carefully and suspiciously raking over his surroundings, and he found he couldn’t breathe as he looked down the wide, main street leading into one of the upper district’s many plazas and saw similar banners hanging from every other street lamp, proudly displayed in the windows of shops and residences, and emblazoned on the shoulder of every soldier and guard that passed by.

The emblem of the Sith. Everywhere.

Aestus started walking if only to feel as though his legs weren’t shaking, his feet unceremoniously dragging on the ground and his lungs burning as he forgot to breathe. He stared at each and every banner as he passed them, some the same red velvet he had seen before, others in black satin emblazoned with the same Sith symbol in such a vibrant red it seemed as if it had been embroidered in flames. Others still carried a stylistic depiction of a dragon upon them in silvery white or cobalt blue, a beautiful thing that put Aestus on edge more than he already was. The city was alive, thriving as it always was, but now, it was under the watchful eye of the Sith. It was a small thing, but it meant all the difference. Something had happened here, and it had happened quickly and effortlessly, or the people and the city would have shown more signs of wear than these pristine streets suggested.

He began to very keenly pay attention to the people now as he passed his, his sharp ears listening in on surrounding conversations and covertly following people when he found something interesting in their discussion. He felt his heart jump every time he heard mention of the Sith, a thing he had been trained to treat as taboo in the open, and to hear them spoken of with such frequency from the lips of the common rabble was shocking each time he heard it. Talk of service to the Sith saviors of the galaxy permeated several conversations, a thing that Aestus had to hear several times to fully understand, the words in that order, in that context simply making no sense to him at all. But no talk was more prevalent than talk of the Emperor. 

By the time he was ten levels from the Senate District, Aestus had heard a great deal about the changes the Emperor had made, the reforms he was proposing this week, the war he had waged against the mighty crime syndicates upon his ascension to the throne, how much better and wealthier the entire galaxy was for the extinction of the Black Sun, the Pyke syndicate, the Crymorah, and the Crimson Dawn. Only the Hutts remained of the major criminal groups, their territory greatly reduced as the Imperial storm swept across the galaxy, their existence allowed by the Emperor when the Hutt Council, in a desperate bid to survive, struck a deal with the ruthless Emperor, though from what Aestus heard, everyone believed it to be temporary, a thing the Emperor did only because it bought him the time he needed to bring the rest of the galaxy under his undisputed rule without destabilizing the massive Outer Rim’s economy. A far bigger disaster than the young Empire was prepared to handle at the moment.

It explained why Aestus hadn’t been able to reach any of his contacts. More than likely, they were all dead.

But more distressing than everything he had heard about this new Empire was what he didn’t hear. For all the talk, all the praise, all the discussion about the Sith, Aestus hadn’t heard any word at all of the Jedi. Like they had somehow been forgotten completely. No, more than that, it was as if there was no sign of them at all, no imprint of their influence, no ripple of light across the darkness, like they had never existed at all. Like the past thousand years of peace under the watchful eye of their Jedi Guardians had never happened. It was entirely surreal, for as far as Aestus knew, this Sith Empire was a very, very new thing. It wasn’t so very long ago that Aestus had been dispatched to kill troublesome Jedi, that Sidious operated in secret just under their noses, and now...nothing. The revenge of the Sith had come to pass, as Sidious had always spoken about, and he had done it without Aestus.

That, or something else was very, very wrong.

Growling to himself, Aestus turned away from the Senate building he could see looming in the distance, and headed down the broad avenue that would lead him to the Jedi Temple. If there was something going on, he would find it there.

 

It wasn’t the Jedi Temple. It was the Imperial Palace.

Dark and foreboding, the former sanctuary of the Jedi loomed up ahead, its four spires reaching high up into the sky, once a place of peace rendered an intimidating display of Imperial might, so different from what it once was, and though much of it was as it had been, like Coruscant itself, it was superficial, a shell that had been gutted and replaced with something darker, and that had made all the difference.

Where once the Light Side had exuded an aura of peace and tranquility, now it was here that the Dark Side was strongest, so thick that Aestus found it difficult to breath, so heavy that he felt as though his limbs had been shackled. Master the Dark Side, Sidious had told him, and all the power of the galaxy would be at his fingertips, but here, in this nexus of the Dark Side, Aestus felt slave to the whispers and commands of the beasts that lurked deep in the darkness, at the whim of the fear that was clawing like a caged animal within his chest. Usually, he found strength in the little of the dark he touched, but now, so deep into the void that was the domain of the Lords of the Sith, he felt only fear as strength was sapped from him, as if he was of no interest to the powerful and wrathful Dark Side, called instead to a stronger Master and only sat heavy upon his shoulders now to cruelly laugh at him as he was subdued.

Work had been done to the former Jedi Temple as well. Though the structure of the Temple remained, the light gray stone it had been built from had been replaced or covered with smooth obsidian of the deepest black, beautiful and stunning to behold and so, so different from the Jedi’s modest tastes. Large, red velvet banners hung from the sides of the building as they did throughout the city, the Sith emblem upon them in sharp contrast and clearly visible from even this distance. Even more startling, perhaps, were the guards that patrolled the gardens and parks that surrounded the Temple that now served as the palace grounds. Jedi Temple Guardians, at first glance, making Aestus swiftly hide behind the nearest tree, but at another glance, he saw this was obviously not the case.

Where the ancient order of the Jedi Temple Guardians wore simple brown and beige robes, these two wore a fusion of black robes and armor, the masks upon their faces giving them a fearsome visage that almost seemed to serve as a mockery of the impassive Jedi counterpart. In their hands, they carried red bladed Saber Pikes, though Aestus could see the more traditional lightsaber hilts on the belts at their waists. When the two had passed, Aestus peeked out from behind his tree, took a good look around for other guards prowling the area, and when he saw the coast was clear, he darted back onto the path, his pace only just too fast for playing it cool as he intended as he made his way to the massive steps of the palace.

As he climbed the steps, Aestus belatedly wondered how he would manage to sneak into the palace, though that was quickly answered for him, as the enormous doors appeared to be opened, just as they were when it was once the Jedi Temple. Aestus couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Security was either terribly poor, or the Emperor’s hubris was truly legendary to believe himself so safe that his palace door be kept open. Perhaps the man had a right to be arrogant, having conquered the galaxy and, supposedly, the Jedi in such a short amount of time, but Aestus still believed it foolish. Even with the Dark Side as an ally, Sidious had never been able to see everything the future held.

His newfound confidence was shaken when another pair of the dark Guardians passed him by, and holding his breath, Aestus fixed his eyes ahead of him and sped up, taking the steps two at a time in his impatience to learn what had happened. His memories of the Jedi Temple were hazy at best, though he did remember the doors, enormous, ancient slabs of stone carved with the images of Jedi Masters upon them. Those were gone now, replaced with the same smooth obsidian that covered the rest of the Palace, new carvings adorning these doors as well, intricate engravings of ancient Sith Lords, Aestus was certain, some he even recognized from his studies, though he couldn’t name them.

Aestus passed through the Palace doors and the compliment of guards stationed there with a group of finely dressed visitors, a steady stream of them continuously entering and leaving through the massive entryway, and he immediately realized his mistake. Getting inside the palace was an easy thing, but once inside, he saw the massive hallway lined with palace guardians, still and stoic, though Aestus could feel them moving the Force, brushing each and every one of the people inside and reading their intentions. He swiftly reenforced his shielding and prayed it would be enough to keep him undetected, and he saw several of the masked guards turn their heads toward him, could feel the heavy weight of their scrutiny upon him before they looked away from him. Aestus breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Apparently, it wasn’t so unusual for a person to feel fearful and intimidated within the home of the Emperor.

He walked slowly down the hallway, looking for an opportunity to slip away so he could explore away from these prying eyes. It made him uneasy being out in the open like this, and the longer he was here, the more likely that he would be recognized and captured. It didn’t take him long to find his opportunity, slipping effortlessly behind a pillar and safely behind the line of Guardians while the nearest guard was occupied with answering the questions of a young, fawning woman. Looking furtively around for any sign of eyes upon him, Aestus slipped into the closest hallway leading off the main hall and ducked through the next door, safely out of sight.

Aestus always remembered the Jedi Temple to be massive, with more rooms and hallways and corridors than he could ever have possibly explored, but he did know the main areas, did know the general layout, and occasionally sticking his head out into the bigger areas to get his bearings, he was able to successfully navigate the Imperial palace using smaller, lesser traveled corridors, ducking himself into empty rooms when he sensed someone coming his way. They were easy enough to sense, nearly everyone this deep in undisputably Force sensitive and all of them seeped in darkness. 

At the very least, this answered the question of what happened to the Jedi. From the look of it, a good number of them had been converted to the Sith, corrupted by the Dark Side and made to serve the new Emperor. Aestus found that strange, but didn’t think about it too hard. Sidious always talked about the extermination of the Jedi, not their conversion, though he supposed things could have changed, or he simply wasn’t privy to his Master’s true intentions.

For as successful as he was in his navigation, Aestus after a time realized he was getting turned around. While everything was structurally the same, the functions of things within the Temple were not, and he realized belatedly that he had no idea where he would find the Sith Master, or if he even wanted to find him, which he certainly did not, but the problem remained, as not knowing where the Emperor kept himself meant that there was a chance that Aestus could very, very awkwardly stumble upon him accidentally. And given his recent luck, he found that to be a very likely scenario. 

Regardless, Aestus was in need of information about a great many things, about Imperial plans for Mustafar, if there were any, about a list of Imperial enemies and if he would be on such a list, about any news of what became of poor, insane Lumis. Perhaps if somehow the man was still alive, he could speak to Sidious on his behalf, though given how their last meeting went, he found that prospect improbable at best. No, Lumis was dead, and even if he wasn’t, Aestus had failed Sidious, and that failure would not be allowed to stand. He was in danger, for certain. He just didn’t know how much, and he had no idea where to even begin looking.

His best bet, he decided, was to head to what was once the Jedi Archives, a collection of knowledge so massive that Aestus found it unlikely that its purpose should be changed, and from there, he could possibly find access to a terminal where he could get an idea of the information he was looking for, if he was very, very lucky, and if not, he could at least get a general idea of how much danger he was actually in. Failing that, there were other things he wanted to know, such as how and when the entire Empire came about, and what else in the galaxy had changed while he was recovering from his fight with Lumis. Knowing the new shape of the galaxy was important to his continued survival. He had to know, and if there was knowledge to be gained, he’d find it in the Archives.

Turning out of one hallway and into another smaller one, Aestus felt as though he had slammed into a wall when a strong, powerful scent hit him, sudden and overwhelming and unmistakably alpha. Pressing himself hard against the wall and pinching his nose to keep the scent out, Aestus closed his eyes to focus himself, but found he could not. This was not just alpha he smelled, it was rut, wild and savage and untamed, and already he could feel his body reacting and rising to the challenge, though a part of him shrank away with uncertainty. Something about it was wrong, the scent so strong it burned and made his eyes water, alpha, yes, but somehow more than alpha as well. Perhaps it was a large group of them, though he could only identify one scent, and with rut this strong, it was usually accompanied with the smell of blood and sex. There was none of that. Only alpha and rut and hunger and restless rage and something thick and poisonous beneath it all.

As if the Dark Side had somehow corrupted even that as well.

His head swimming, Aestus staggered down the hallway, trying to get away from the scent that overwhelmed him, but everywhere he went, it only grew stronger, more oppressive, and Aestus found himself swallowing around a thick lump in his throat as he tried to find his bearings once again. Slipping out of the smaller corridors and into a larger hallway in the hopes that a bigger space would dilute the scent, he looked around his surroundings and found that every wall looked the same, every corridor like the other, every door like the one beside it, and he had no idea where he was. Growling a curse under his breath, Aestus staggered toward the nearby large door, hoping that getting a glimpse at a familiar location would reorient himself once again, the empty hallways making him hopeful that the rooms beyond would be empty as well.

He wasn’t so lucky.

The doors of the room slid open, and the already powerful scent became even stronger, and Aestus found himself looking into a massive room filled with monsters. Hundreds of them. With pale skin and massive, powerful muscles, these hulking brutes stood over seven feet tall and has a long row of sharp, boney spines running down the length of their back to match the sharp claws on their hands and the elongated fangs in their mouths. They reeked of alpha, meaning they were human, or once human, though they were unlike any human Aestus had even seen, unlike any alpha he had ever smelt, and strangest of all, they were perfectly identical down to the scent. And each and every one of those pale eyes was staring right at him.

Backing away slowly and never taking his eyes off the strange, predatory creatures, Aestus only turned away when the door slid closed, and he once again found himself looking into a sea of strange, pale eyes, another group of the demonic creatures having come in from behind him while he had been focused on the ones in the room. He swallowed back his fear and the burning madness of rut that clawed at his mind, watching the creatures before him tilt their heads as they examined him, a strange chittering, clicking sound passing like a wave through the group. Fear turned to terror when he heard the door behind him slide open.

Without a thought to his actions, Aestus’ lightsaber flew into his hand and ignited with a snapping hiss, and he swung his blade at the nearest of the monsters closing in on him, a piercing screech echoing around him when the plasma blade sliced through the creature’s arm, and without wasting another moment, Aestus ran. He didn’t need to look behind him to hear the beasts chasing him, their heavy footsteps and savage snarls growing closer with each step he took, their greater size giving them much greater speed, Occasionally, Aestus spun and lashed out with his blade, felt the fear and the thrill as howls of pain filled the air with the feel of his blade cutting through more than air, and he was swiftly on his way again. Once, he reached out with the Force to attempt and push the monsters back, but here, his grasp on the Dark Side was tenuous at best, the Force itself seeming to entirely ignore his call, and if that was not bad enough, there were simply too many, those that were pushed back quickly overtaken by those behind them, and the chase continued, the swarm of predators caught in their mindless rut relentless after their prey.

For a moment, Aestus thought he might be able to get away by ducking into a smaller corridor, forcing his much larger pursuers to come at him single file instead of in the wave they traveled in. Like that, he’d have a chance, an opportunity to face them one on one, a chance to kill them in turn until their fellows could no longer crawl over the bodies to get at him. He wasn’t certain how keen of a sense of smell these demons had, but it was worth the risk to have even a chance of being able to run and hide. If he could just have a moment, just a second out of sight, he could disappear. The would never be able to find him, they-

The second he ducked into the hallway, Aestus’ body slammed hard to the ground as his legs were taken out from under him, pain shooting up through his body to see his leg impaled upon a long, sharp claw. A triumphant, screeching bark rang in his ears as he felt himself dragged along the ground as the monster pulled him out of the hallway, and Aestus grit his teeth against the pain as he thrashed around and swung his saber at the monster’s arm, severing it just above the elbow. He was free, and he swiftly jumped to his feet, but it was too little, too late, and by the time he was launching himself forwards, three hulking bodies blocked the hallway, and he found himself surrounded.

Snarling in anger and swept up by the madness of rut, Aestus spun his blade in his hand and began rapidly cutting his way through the creatures that surrounded him, slicing off limbs and heads and leaving burned lines of flesh across powerful chests, heedless of the injuries he suffered in the process. But he could feel every injury he sustained, every slice that sharp claws ripped in his flesh, every stab of pain from fangs that sunk deep into muscle, the painful throbbing of his leg and the weakening of his body as he felt fire creeping slowly through his veins. Somehow, these creatures were venomous, something within them vile and toxic that he could feel seeping deep within him as well, and it was not long before he felt his strength failing him.

A vicious swipe of a clawed hand across his face sent Aestus pitching hard to the ground, his lightsaber clattering away from his hand and into the savage swarm around him, and when he tried to rise to his feet, he slipped and fell back to the ground, the floor slick in his own blood. They were immediately upon him, sharp claws tearing at his skin and fangs sinking into his neck and shoulder, and with a helpless sob, Aestus felt his body go limp and pliant, though exhaustion or blood loss or the poison throbbing in his veins, he had no idea, but it didn’t matter. These monsters were going to eat him, and there was nothing he could do about it. A hundred times, he had thought of what his death would be like, but never once did he believe it would be like this, savaged and eaten by a pack of mad alphas.

Though as the beasts pulled him up by the arms and began dragging him away, his hazy mind couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow appropriate.

 

Pain and fear kept Aestus conscious as he was dragged through the palace, though his mind was so foggy that he never knew where he was, or where he was going. He could still smell the scent of oppressive alpha and rut, but limp in his captor’s grasp, it no longer effected him. At least he wasn’t going to be eaten, he thought, deciding that if he was going to be ripped apart, the swarm of monsters would have done so in their frenzy, though part of him was irritated by the prospect of delaying his death. If he was going to be killed, he’d rather be done with it instead of being kept weak and helpless as he was.

The dread returned when he heard large doors swing open and the heavy steps of his captors echoing in off the high ceiling of a large room, and Aestus opened bleary eyes in an attempt to focus on his new surroundings. His gut feeling had been correct, of course, the whispers of the Force informing him that now, even in the presence of so much darkness, he faced something even darker at the center of the void around which the Dark Side writhed. Here sat the man that commanded it all, the Master of the Sith that he had so badly feared, and Aestus dropped his head to his chest and whimpered, struggled what little he could, but it was futile. The Emperor waited, and there was no escape.

His escort stopped, and Aestus felt his shoulders shake with tears he didn’t care to fight, watching them splatter upon the dark red runner upon the ground when the softest hiss of irritation cut through the silence, and a second later, Aestus was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, his monestrous captors backing away from him as Aestus slowly pushed himself to his knees.

“Well...” a lazy, accented voice drawled, a voice that was both unexpected and instantly recognizable, and Aestus instantly perked up, his pain and fatigue momentarily forgotten as he stared with wide eyes at the man seated upon the large, ornate black throne on the dais before him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes...”

Aestus blinked once, twice, reached up to rub his eyes and stared again at the Emperor, not Sidious as he had expected and feared, but Lumis, his long lost and insane twin, the man looking far better and more vibrant from the skeletal waste he was when he last saw him. Like before, the man still wore elegant black robes, though now, they were perhaps even more extravagant, complete with intricate gold thread embroidery running down every crisp edge of tailored clothing, intricate symbols that Aestus recognized as beautiful Ancient Sith. But now, he was healthy, still lean, of course, still thin, though strong muscles could be seen beneath his shirt and robes, the obvious work of a man that had put in tireless hours training and honing his body.

But for impressive as Lumis looked upon his throne, for how at home he seemed in the seat of power at the beating heart of the Dark Side, what captured Aestus’ attention most was what laid curled around his throne. A dragon, an iridescent ice blue like he had seen upon the banners throughout the city, its horned head lifted regally as it looked upon Aestus with golden glowing eyes that seemed far more intelligent than he wised to admit. He looked away from the predator when it snarled, it’s long fangs exposed and the grooves between the scales upon its chest glowing molten red with the promise of fire, and Aestus didn’t believe his day could possibly get any worse. He was going to get eaten. 

Choosing to ignore for the moment the beasts that surrounded him, he looked back at Lumis and felt his heart skip a beat, the bored, lazy expression on his twin’s handsome face a welcome and unexpected relief, though a severely confusing one. He tried to speak, felt his throat tighten, and he looked away for a moment, trying to come to grips with how this could happen, what must have come to pass to allow all of this, but his hazy mind drew upon nothing but impossibility. Blinking again, he rubbed his eyes once again, looked back at Lumis, than to the mythical creature behind him, and once again back to Lumis, his brow creasing as he decided he did not believe what he saw.

“Lumis?” Aestus whimpered in a small, cracked voice, slowly shaking his head as he looked him over, squinting as if that would reveal the illusion of his fevered mind. “I don’t...understand. Where’s Sidious?”

“Sidious is dead,” Lumis said softly, almost kindly, his hand resting upon the dragon’s horn as the creature lowered its head.

“Dead?” Aestus squeaked, his world suddenly spinning, and he quickly closed his eyes to make the sensation stop. It didn’t. “How?”

“I killed him, as I said I would,” Lumis said, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched Aestus waver and sway upon his knees. “Come now, brother, did you doubt my intentions? Did you believe I meant something else when I said I meant to slay him?”

“N-no...” Aestus muttered, placing his hands upon the floor to steady himself as he looked back up at the Emperor, his lip trembling as he felt new, fresh tears slide down his cheeks. “I just...how? How did...h-how could...”

“All in good time, Aestus...” Lumis said smoothly, his hand extended toward the broken, bleeding alpha on the floor before him. “Come.”

It was a command, small and simple, and without even the slightest touch of the Force that he could feel, Aestus was compelled to obey, his body aching and rebelling against every movement he made and his shoulders heaving with sobs as he crawled on his hands and knees up the dias to kneel pitifully before the Emperor, his eyes shut tight as he awaited his death with the sudden snapping of powerful jaws.

Instead, he felt a gentle hand upon his cheek, the palm and fingers rough with calluses from countless hours training with a lightsaber, his thumb running over the scar upon his face, and though that particular scar had long since healed, Lumis’ touch upon it made it feel as though it had been split open once again. White hot pain exploded behind his eyes as the scar burned, but at the same time, beyond Aestus’ explanation and understanding, something in the very heart of him felt warm and soothed, his entire body sagging in welcome surrender, a blissful euphoria washing over him to know that someone, finally, was in charge. The warmth spread through him rapidly, and he could feel the bleeding gashes across his body closing and the pulsing, throbbing feel of the toxins within him vanishing like they were never there, and though Lumis’ touch upon his scar burned terribly, he felt himself whimper in need as he gratefully leaned into his touch.

When Aestus finally opened his bleary eyes, his breathing calmed and pleasure pulsing slow and lazy through his body, he found his head in the Emperor’s lap, his hands clutching tightly to the fine black robes as the Emperor lazily threaded his fingers in Aestus’ auburn hair. As his world slowly came back into focus, he found himself looking at the face of Lumis’ dragon, the beast’s eyes closed and its nostrils slowly blaring with the deep, even breaths of light sleep. He was not going to get eaten. He was safe.

“Master...” Aestus whimpered, his hands sliding around the Emperor’s waist to clutch him tighter, and he sighed as he felt Lumis’ fingers gently rub at his scalp.

“Always,” Lumis said soothingly, a slight smirk on his lips as Aestus turned his head to look up at him, a sharp inhale followed by the slightest parting of his mouth as he began to fumble for words, and Lumis pressed a finger to his lips for silence. Aestus wordlessly complied. “I know you have questions, dear, and there will be time for them.” He stopped, his brow knitting together as he tilted Aestus’ chin to examine him. “After a trip to the medcenter, I believe. I’ve never heard of a Sith Lord that’s a proficient healer.”

“I feel fine...” Aestus groggily protested, nuzzling his head against Lumis’ stomach and reveling in the feel of tired euphoria that washed over him, and squeaked in protest when Lumis stood, rising himself when the Sith Master commanded it with a gesture of his fingers.

“Be that as it may, I’d like to take no chances,” Lumis said, gesturing for Aestus to follow him as he languidly walked down the dias and allowing the alpha to lean against him as they walked. “We’ll talk afterwards. I promise.”

“As you wish, Master,” Aestus said with a yawn, a loopy grin spreading across his face. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt truly home.

 


End file.
